


Like to Get to Know You Well

by kerithwyn



Category: Fringe
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2017-11-28 21:36:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerithwyn/pseuds/kerithwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life goes on for Captain Lincoln Lee after the Bridge closes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Like to get to know you well

**Author's Note:**

> A semi-sequel to “[Life in One Day](http://archiveofourown.org/works/629302).” Picks up post-revised "Everything in its Right Place." In other words, canon except that alt!Lincoln lives.
> 
> Confession: In my story notes for "Life in One Day" I originally wrote: 
> 
> (Oh! Oh! And to follow through, in "Worlds Apart" Lee meets adorkably preppy alt!Nick Lane and they renew their acquaintance and fall in love and live happily ever after. Dammit, someone write that.)
> 
> \--and by the time I posted "Life", I had over 9k of it. *sigh*
> 
> Thanks to JB McDragon for first look!

Getting shot really sucked. Missing out on critical developments while his arm regenerated the tissue damage sucked even worse.

Lincoln had still been out of action while Liv and the other Lincoln—and the other Walter Bishop—investigated the latest case involving Jones. Along the way, they found the mole who'd disrupted their investigations for months: Colonel Broyles.

If Liv hadn't seen the colonel's betrayal for herself, Lincoln never would have believed it.

In the wake of that revelation, Fringe Division was in shambles. Lincoln found himself pressed into service as the transitory chief, although there was no illusion on any side that he'd be permanently tapped for the position. He was still too young, too green on the bureaucracy side of things...and despite his temporary post, a whiff of suspicion remained around him and Liv (and Charlie, for that matter, down at the Academy) for having been so close to the colonel. As close as anyone was outside Broyles' family, at any rate.

But Phillip Broyles—his military rank stripped from him—swore that he'd worked alone, and every polygraph and shrink's evaluation to that effect confirmed it. Even the high brass seemed to be coming around to the fact that he'd acted out of purely personal reasons, rather than any ideological or apocalyptic belief.

Broyles betrayed everything he ever worked for in an effort to save his son. The most human reason, and maybe the easiest to understand.

Lincoln hadn't processed it all himself, honestly. He peeled Liv away from his double long enough for them to have a few short, unsettled conversations about the whole mess, but neither of them reached any kind of satisfying conclusion. He wasn't sure they ever would.

At the same time, his alternate—that buttoned-up, suit-and-glasses-wearing, specter-from-another-time shade of himself—was still hanging around. Agent Lee claimed it was because he was intent on finding Jones, who'd killed his FBI partner and as a direct consequence pulled him into his side's Fringe Division. It was a viable excuse, a reasonable one even, and having a permanent liaison from the other side who could speak for that world didn't hurt either. But Lincoln saw the way Agent Lee looked at his partner, and she was looking right back.

He'd say "no accounting for taste" if that wouldn't be insulting himself, so instead Lincoln settled for being more-than-slightly bemused by the situation. He hadn't lied to the other Astrid: he really would have fallen for Liv if he'd been at all inclined in her direction orientation-wise. Lincoln was half in love with her regardless. So it really wasn't a surprise that his double mirrored those feelings. The fact that Lee was more apt to act on them still seemed a little bizarre, but Lincoln was inclined to chalk that up to the differences between the worlds and not obsess about the fact that his mirror image liked women.

And he could take it as a kind of flattery that Liv clearly reveled in the attention, even encouraging it. Part of him was glad; she'd taken the breakup with Frank hard. If she was going to fall for a Lincoln Lee, it only made sense that she'd go for one more likely to return her interest.

Didn't change the fact that watching them together, heads bent over a shared computer screen, severely weirded him out.

He didn't have a lot of time to dwell on it, though. His new (albeit temporary) job had him running from sun-up to sun-down, and sometimes half the night. The search for Jones was on in full force, and they were still chasing down the remaining shapeshifters.

And then the other side's Walter Bishop called a summit, claiming he'd figured out Jones' plan. It sounded insane to Lincoln—trying to collapse both universes to create a new one?—but Secretary Bishop seemed to think his double was on to something.

It all became a little easier to believe after the earthquakes started.

Suddenly they were scrambling even more frantically to find any trace of Jones in either universe, while all the distress calls overloaded the emergency services. Natural phenomena technically didn't fall under Fringe Division's jurisdiction, but if their suspicions were true, these earthquakes were anything but natural. Lincoln lent out as many of his agents as he could and instructed the other division heads to do the same. The decline in the number of Fringe events gave them that a little bit of latitude, if nothing else.

The last thing, the very last thing, that Lincoln Lee expected was to fall in love in the middle of the crisis. Given the uncertainties of his life, he probably shouldn't have been surprised.

* * *

Those agents remaining in the slightly understaffed command hub of Fringe Division were all very clear on their instructions: all queries intended for Lincoln Lee were to be routed to the longstanding member of the division, not the interloper agent wearing his face. But as interim head, Lincoln really was too busy to be interrupted with trivial requests. The staff was practiced at running interference with well-meaning but uninformed civilians, legacy of Broyles' leadership. So anything that hit Lincoln's (borrowed) desk or anyone who crossed the threshold of his (temporary) office was by definition significant.

Someone had evidently successfully passed the gauntlet. His (interim) assistant stuck her head around the doorframe. "Captain Lee? You have a visitor."

"Thanks, Marie," he said absently, looking up—

"Lincoln?" The man in the sweater vest looked around nervously. "Captain Lee, I mean. Uh, hi. Nick Lane."

Lincoln half-rose from the chair, thinking that something about the man's face seemed familiar. He automatically catalogued details: tall, blond, cute in an understated way, anxious. That last probably had more to do with his surroundings than anything else.

"I don't know if you remember me, but we grew up in the same neighborhood in Philly," Nick continued, looking into Lincoln's face for any sign of recognition. "You went out with my sister—"

"Kendra," Lincoln finished with him. "Wow, yeah, that was a different time. Right! Good to see you again." He reached out to shake and Nick's hand met his, firm and warm. "So what brings you to Fringe Division?"

Nothing good, he knew. Civilians didn't visit the facility unless they'd been part of an event, or witnessed one.

"I'm really sorry to ambush you like this, but...I really didn't want to call the hotline and you're the only person I know who's an actual Fringe Division agent." Nick looked agitated and clearly troubled so yeah, nothing good. Lincoln held his tongue and let Nick speak his mind. "I had a vision."

Nick's face was full of anxiety, probably half-expecting to be met with disbelief. Lincoln had been doing this job too long to dismiss him out of hand. "A vision?" he repeated, waving Nick to a chair.

Nick sat, nodding, his words coming faster now. "I— I saw the earthquake. I was standing right in the middle of it. The thing is, when this happened, I wasn't even aware there was an earthquake. I hadn't turned on the news yet." His eyebrows drew together in confusion, as if he was just realizing what he was saying. "How is that possible?"

"I don't know," Lincoln said softly, which probably wasn't what Nick wanted to hear. "But we'll figure it out, okay?"

"Okay." Nick slumped back in the chair, looking at least a little less on edge. The relief of confession, Lincoln knew, and the promise of help went a long way. "It's, uh. Good to see you, too. Despite current circumstances."

"Definitely." Lincoln went over to the sideboard. "How do you like your tea? And what are you doing now?"

"One sugar, thanks. And, uh...kind of related to your work, actually." Nick blanched in embarrassment when Lincoln glanced his way. "I shouldn't have said that. I used to work as an advocate for an Amber victims' rights group, but now I've moved over to helping the people who're being pulled out of the recovery zones. Their lives are a mess, most of them were declared dead—" he stopped, wincing again. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean...."

"It's fine." Lincoln managed a genuine smile as he passed Nick his tea. "We don't have the resources to keep up with the post-recovery operations. I'm glad you're part of the solution."

"I understand why the Amber had to happen," Nick said earnestly. "It's not like there was any other choice."

Lincoln nodded, a little surprised. Most civilians cheered Fringe Division when their lives were in the process of being saved, but had a colder view when their homes and pets and sometimes their loved ones had been caught in Amber. But that discussion could wait for another time. "Can you tell me anything more about your vision? Anything in the area, the people around you, that kind of thing?"

Nick stared at him for a moment, then took a careful sip of tea. "I... You're really taking this seriously."

"Yep." Lincoln pulled up a virtual map of Manhatan and centered it on the location of the 'quake. "You did mean the earthquake here in the city, right?"

"Uh, yeah." Nick got up, clutching his mug in both hands, and came over to look at the map on the screen. "Right, that's the spot. I was standing right there." His finger hovered over the screen at the epicenter of the earthquake. "There were people yelling, running, but I was just standing still. I remember..." he swallowed nervously. "There were some billboards, the old paper kind, not digital. And Lincoln, I couldn't see the Twin Towers. I kept thinking they should be there, all the other buildings were where they were supposed to be, but there was just...nothing."

Lincoln tried for his best stoic Fringe team lead expression but Nick caught him out, staring at his face in growing alarm. "That means something. You— you know what this is."

"I'm not sure. But I think I know what you saw." Lincoln put his hand on Nick's shoulder, trying to offer reassurance. He wouldn't have taken the liberty with a stranger, but he and Nick were old friends. Sort of. "Listen, I need to consult with a couple of people, and then there's going to be a mess of nondisclosure documents for you to thumbprint, and then I get to tell you a story. You're probably not going to believe half of it, but—"

"What's happening to me," Nick whispered, and Lincoln took the mug before it fell out of Nick's trembling hand. Dammit, he was usually more on the ball than this.

"It's okay. It's okay, Nick. We'll figure it out," Lincoln said firmly, doing his best to sound like he meant it. He took Nick's hand, squeezing slightly. "I know you're scared. We'll do our best to keep you safe. I promise."

Fringe agents never made promises, because too often they couldn't be kept. But he would damn well do everything in his power to make this one stick.

Nick squeezed back, his fingers tightening convulsively around Lincoln's. "I couldn't— I couldn't talk about this with someone I didn't know. I'm glad you're here."

"Me too," Lincoln said, and looked over as someone cleared her throat in the doorway. Liv was standing there, almost at attention but smirking slightly at seeing him holding hands with a stranger.

"Sorry to interrupt, Captain. I can come back."

"No, I was just about to call you." Lincoln gave Nick's hand a final squeeze. "Nick, this is Olivia Dunham, one of our best agents. Liv, my old friend Nick Lane had an experience related to the earthquakes, I think it might be a lead. I'm gonna expedite some need-to-know authorizations and then we'll need to bring him up to speed. But first I need to confer with our friends across the Bridge."

"George Washington or Brooklyn?" Nick asked faintly, still sounding dazed.

"Little farther than that," Liv said, swinging into the room to take Nick's arm. "So, old friend of Lincoln's, huh? Any embarrassing stories you can share?"

Nick smiled, wavery but there, and Lincoln waved them on. "Go ahead. The calls shouldn't take long, and then we can start sorting this out." He waited until they'd gone, Liv smartly steering Nick away from where Agent Lee sat in the main room, and then summoned his double up to the office. "Listen, I need you to go over to the Bridge and talk to your people."

Lee listened intently as Lincoln explained. "So you think this guy—Lane—he saw my side in his vision?"

"Yeah. I don't know how, he's not a psychic or anything. But maybe your Dr. Bishop will have a theory."

"Sure. It's something new to look into, anyway. We weren't getting any further with the data at hand." Lee headed off while Lincoln stared after him, bemused. He'd said "we" without a moment's hesitation.

"Someone's making himself at home," he muttered under his breath, and then called for Marie to start downloading the nondisclosure forms that would allow him to tell Nick about the alternate universe.

* * *

The easiest method, and the most expedient, included introducing Nick to Agent Lee.

"He's _you,_ " Nick said, looking between them in amazement. They'd told him the basics, but seeing was an entirely different matter.

"Not really," Lincoln and Lee said together, and Lincoln laughed and shrugged. "Okay, maybe a little."

"Wow." Nick cocked his head to the side, studying the other Lincoln. "Frankly, you're more like I remember."

"It's the glasses," Lincoln said, unaccountably annoyed. "I got my vision corrected when I went to the Academy."

Agent Lee was squinting through those aforementioned glasses. "I...vaguely remember a Nick Lane over on my side. His sister was really pretty. But I never talked to him much."

"From the report we got from your colleagues, he was probably—" Lincoln checked his next words and reconsidered his approach. "Nick, we have some information about your alternate. It might be difficult to hear, but I think you should know."

He quickly outlined the other Nick Lane's history: the experimental drug trial, the suicide attempt, the record of mental instability and hospital stays. "It looks like Jones recruited him, gave him a purpose." He paused, then added, "Dr. Bishop thinks that you were seeing through his eyes during the earthquake."

"So that's why the Towers were missing," Nick said slowly. "And you think he had something to do with the earthquake? Caused it somehow, because of those experiments?"

"That's the working theory," Lee said, not unkindly.

"Okay. So...why are you telling me this?" Nick frowned. "Is here something I can do to help find my...double?"

In retrospect that was probably the moment, right there. But Lincoln was too wrapped in the tension of the situation to recognize it. Agent Lee nodded, saying, "If you're willing, we'd like you to come over to the other side. The Fringe team there has some ideas."

"The chance to see another universe? Are you kidding? Sign me up." Nick grinned, suddenly as eager as a kid at Disney Town. "I didn't watch all that _Star Trek_ for nothing."

Or maybe that was the moment.

Regardless of the circumstances, Lincoln couldn't leave his post for the trip across the Bridge, much as he might've liked to. He trusted Liv implicitly to be his eyes and ears and bring everyone back safely.

"On it, boss," she threw back, teasing, when he voiced his concern. "I'll bring your man home."

" _Temporary_ boss," he shouted after her. And more quietly once she'd gone, "Not my man."

But that didn't stop him from charging Lee with the responsibility, too. "Look after Nick," he told his other self fiercely. "Don't let anything happen to him."

Agent Lee blinked at him, taken aback by his emphasis. Lincoln wondered a little at it, too. But Lee accepted the obligation with all due earnestness. "I won't."

* * *

Nick came back safe, despite being dosed with LSD and Cortexiphan. Lincoln would've had a few sharp words with Dr. Bishop about that if the intensifying earthquakes hadn't made every other concern irrelevant.

In the end, despite everyone's best effort, they were forced to close the Bridge to preserve the integrity of both worlds. And Agent Lee chose to stay on this side, to very little surprise on the part of anyone who'd been paying attention.

The earthquakes stopped. The world didn't start falling apart again, even if it didn't get any better. And when Lincoln finally found time to take a breath, he met up with Nick for breakfast at a diner near Fringe Division early on a Friday morning. The new boss Colonel Dahlander was still getting up to speed on all the division's workings and Lincoln was on "how high" call until further notice. The weekend ahead looked to be full of files, bureaucracy, and a lot of gritted-teeth "sirs." But he could steal an hour for breakfast, at least.

It wasn't hard to guess at least part of the reason why Nick wanted to stay in touch. The existence of the other universe was still classified to everyone outside the D.O.D.'s need-to-know radius, barring those brought in for specific circumstances, like Nick. He wouldn't have been able to talk about his experiences with his family or friends, and Lincoln knew from experience how that kind of secrecy could eat at you. Even if he could share the details, most civilians didn't want to hear them. It wasn't by accident that most of Lincoln's close friends worked for or around Fringe Division.

But Nick didn't seem unsettled by Lincoln's job, and he waved cheerfully when Lincoln entered the diner. "Hey! I'm glad you could make it. You sounded stressed when we talked."

"New boss, lots of changes," Lincoln said, taking a seat opposite Nick. "Gonna be a while before things settle back down."

They ordered quickly off the menu. Once the waitress had gone, Nick glanced over with a measure of both curiosity and trepidation. "I read between the lines of the official reports, but...what happened? Can you tell me?"

He'd earned the right to know. "We had to close the Bridge," Lincoln said quietly, unable to keep his voice from reflecting his regret. "We're not sure if it can be reopened." Over an omelet and strong tea he filled in some of the other details, including the fact of the other Lincoln's new residency, self-editing judiciously. But he couldn't keep the frustration out of his voice. To have had those few weeks of seeing the world almost visibly healing, only to have the progress end so suddenly—

Nick looked stricken, staring down at his half-eaten pancakes. "I still feel kind of sick, that my...other self was partly responsible for all this."

"He's not you," Lincoln said firmly, shelving his own disappointments. Even with the two worlds' separation, things were better than they had been. "No one knows that better than me, especially now that I have to look my double in the face every day." And sometime soon figure out how to introduce him to Lincoln's parents, the horror. "You're not responsible for anything he did. In fact, you're the one who helped stop the worst of it. Wish I could give you a medal."

Nick snorted, then looked up. "Maybe we can get dinner sometime instead?"

"Sure," he started, but the way Nick asked made Lincoln wonder. Only one way to find out. "Friend-date, or date-date? 'Cause either is good with me."

"Um, wow." Nick blinked at him. "I thought— Back then, you were interested in my _sister_ —"

"Just a phase," Lincoln assured him. "I got over it by senior year in high school. Over the idea of dating girls, I mean."

"You _have_ changed," Nick said. "A lot more than the glasses. I like it." He grinned. "Okay, date-date. I'd like that. Uh, I do like women too, just so you know."

"I don't discriminate," Lincoln said, laughing. "But I was being serious. You helping to find the other Nick Lane, that was critical. A lot of people would have refused."

"Yeah, well, you didn't see the other side's lab and all the crazy low-rent tech," Nick said dryly. "I'd have run screaming if I knew how to get back from there." He paused. "Also, I think their Dr. Bishop is insane. And his drugs really sucked. Man, I'm glad to be home." He put his hand out across the table and Lincoln took it.

They sat there holding hands until Lincoln's pager went off. "Go," Nick said. "I'll call."

"You better," Lincoln said, sliding out of the booth. He leaned down to brush a kiss across Nick's cheek, just a friendly gesture, but Nick deliberately turned his head and caught Lincoln's mouth instead. The kiss was brief but he could taste the honey Nick had put on his pancakes. Lincoln straightened up, wishing he could tell Dahlander to jump in a lake. (The non-toxic kind. He didn't wish the colonel dead, or anything.) "Damn. Now we really do have to make that date. I need the chance to steal one back."

"You're a smooth operator, Lincoln Lee," Nick said, mocking him with a smirk. "Get to work, you slacker."

Lincoln walked the few blocks over to division, smiling the whole way and reminding himself that Nick had a job too, he wasn't going to be lingering over tea all day and thinking about their unscheduled date. But it seemed like Nick had the same outlook on seizing the moment as Lincoln did, and that boded well. Really, really well.

* * *

It took a couple of days for them to sort out their conflicting schedules, but Lincoln and Nick finally met up for Indian food after work on Tuesday evening. After a quick consultation, Lincoln grabbed a reservation at Nirvana on Lexington and 40th. Nick, it turned out, was a vegetarian. Lincoln decided he could put up with that, at least long enough to find out if their commonalities could make up for that shortcoming.

At Lincoln's prompting, Nick told him more about his job. Watching his face light up as he talked about the people he'd met, the victims freed from the Amber to start a new life, was hugely satisfying: both for seeing the pride Nick took in his work, and hearing the stories that he told.

Lincoln had been present at a lot of those sites. He'd probably pushed the remote detonation button on some of them. He'd never spent a lot of time thinking about the people he'd relegated to the Amber, aside from mourning the general necessity and loss of life. Some agents cataloged the losses, especially the ones they'd caused, learning each victim's name and carrying the memories like a hair shirt. Those agents didn't last long, especially not after the recent revelation that the people in Amber hadn't died but were stuck in a kind of stasis instead. Realizing that some of the people he'd unknowingly relegated to a living hell had been released to begin new lives felt like a weight being lifted, one that Lincoln hadn't known he was carrying.

They talked about their lives back in Philadelphia, and the people they'd both known. "Kendra's married, two kids, her husband's a good guy and the kids are total monsters," Nick said. "She laughed when I told her I'd be seeing you."

"You told her...?" Lincoln asked, amused and obliquely delighted. "Little premature?"

"Oh, I don't think so," Nick said, smiling. "I figure we knew each other in two universes, that's gotta mean something. Hey, how's your doppelganger fitting in, anyway?"

Lincoln sighed. "Okay? And not so okay. Things are a lot different here, I don't think he realized how much. He wants to work for Fringe Division but as good as he was on his side, his skills don't directly translate. We've sent him to the Academy for some brush-up courses."

"And you're getting along?" Nick's eyes were penetrating, knowing.

Lincoln raised his hand and made a see-sawing gesture. "It's just weird. I look at him and see a guy I left behind years ago. That's—"

"Unsettling," Nick said. "Yeah." He hesitated for a long moment. "I...didn't get a chance to see my double on the other side, except on a computer screen. I don't think I was even supposed to see that. He kind of looked like— well, comparatively, probably a lot like you look at the other Lincoln. You know, I'm the dorky one where he looked cool."

"For a super-powered terrorist," Lincoln said dismissively. "And I don't think you're dorky." He leaned back, smiling. "But see, I knew I was the cool Lincoln."

Nick rolled his eyes. "Yes, true, but that was your cue to tell me how I wasn't a dork. Like, 'maybe if you weren't wearing a sweater vest.' Or something, you know, actually cool."

Lincoln broke up laughing because first, that sounded totally like Liv, who was always busting his chops about his ego; and second, Nick was utterly _adorable_ when he was being flirty. Nick grinned at him across the table and added, "It's useful for my work, looking harmless and helpful. Sort of the opposite of your, uh, thigh holster."

"Liv calls it—" Lincoln said without thinking, and paused. "Uh."

"What?"

"My, ah. 'Fuck-me personal ad.'"

"Well," Nick said, "she's not wrong."

They stared at each other for a long moment before Lincoln said hoarsely, "This is how you know it's all a façade. Because if I was really that cool, I'd've already said something awesome to sweep you off your feet."

Nick shook his head, blushing faintly. "You were plenty cool when you kept me from freaking out about that vision. You don't have to work that hard."

Lincoln cleared his throat. "Yeah, well, I thought the guy who volunteered to go to another universe and help find his crazy double was pretty terrific. Plus, there was a _Star Trek_ reference. Automatic geek points."

"And geek is better than dork?" Nick asked, laughing.

"I should know. Made a career of it." Lincoln nodded to the waitress and signaled to have the bill sent to his account before Nick could protest. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah." Nick was smiling to himself as they left the restaurant.

Lincoln bumped him with his shoulder as they walked. "Share?"

"Oh, just— I'm really, really glad we met again. Even if it almost took the world ending to make that happen."

"Nick," Lincoln said, and when Nick turned to face him, he put his hand on the other man's shoulder to draw him down. Nick was tall, but not so tall that Lincoln had to crane his neck for a kiss. Nick tasted like cardamom and cumin and the mango lassi he'd drank, and if those flavors were henceforth associated with the feel of Nick's mouth against his, Lincoln felt he'd already benefited from their brief association.

When they parted, Nick's face was full of satisfaction. "Chemistry," he said softly, "yay."

Lincoln grinned. "I was thinking the same thing." He took Nick's hand and held it while they walked the short distance toward Grand Central Station.

Nick looked at him sideways as they approached the station. "Look, I'm no good at playing coy. I'd totally go home with you tonight or invite you to my place—"

Lincoln nodded, perfectly in accord with either of those suggestions, already anticipating the impending "but."

"Except—damn, this sounds like an excuse. I have a giant meeting in the morning. Did you hear—" Nick started, and then laughed. "Of course you did. But my office got really excited about the mayor's proposal that the recovery teams start working on Madison Square Garden."

"I heard," Lincoln said flatly, but didn't continue.

Nick glanced at him, curious. "Not exciting?"

"Well...." Lincoln sighed, wishing he could obfuscate. "That was a really nasty wormhole. And there's no guarantee that it stabilized naturally like some of the smaller ones. The lookers just don't have enough data to make an accurate projection. It's— I'm sorry, Nick, I don't want to spoil the mood."

"No, go on, tell me," Nick said, pulling them out of the flow of sidewalk traffic to sit on a low concrete rise.

"It's one of those areas," Lincoln said, feeling his face go tight, "where public safety and political ambition don't mix. Everyone wants to break open the Amber there because it's such a public spectacle, a huge eyesore that just reminds everyone of what we've lost, and reclaiming it would be a huge victory. I don't disagree, but I'm not convinced it's safe. Yet," he added hastily. "The thing is, the smaller anomalies were the first to be 'healed' by the existence of the Bridge. The bigger ones, especially those trapped deep in stasis...we just don't know."

Nick was staring at him. "That," he said, "is a much clearer explanation than anything we've heard. Some of my co-workers thought Fringe Division was just being obstinate. Why didn't your office—" he stopped, realization dawning. "Oh."

"Yeah," Lincoln said. "Who wants to be the ones pissing on everyone's parade? We thought it'd be better to work a pattern that went around the major sites until we can figure out the safest way to approach them."

"Damn. And I guess I probably shouldn't reveal that, either." Nick chewed on his lip. Lincoln wanted to lean over and do that for him, but it wasn't the time. "That's gonna make the meeting awkward."

Lincoln would have thrown up his hands, but Nick was still holding on to one of them. "This is why they don't send me to do PR work, and why I was never gonna keep that top office. Can't keep a secret. I'm sorry."

Nick cocked his head, regarding Lincoln seriously. "Fortunately for you, I'm pretty good at keeping my mouth shut. When warranted. And from what you're saying, that proposal was never going to happen anyway, if it didn't have Fringe Division sanction. Which means that the mayor was just fishing for a bump in his job approval ratings and getting everyone all excited for no reason." Nick looked genuinely angry now, but at least it wasn't aimed at him.

Still, Lincoln had managed to put a damper on the evening, and he needed to try to fix it. "For your meeting, you can pull up Fringe Division's official schedule of sites on the recovery list, that's a matter of public record. The mayor has no authority to declare what zones come next and he knows it."

Nick sighed. "I guess we do, too. Everyone was just so excited by the idea."

"I know." Lincoln looked down at their joined hands, now a little sweaty. "Uh, I liked what you were saying before I so rudely interrupted with reality."

"Oh, yeah. _Very_ smooth." Nick was smiling again, and Lincoln counted that as a win. "We should try this again, huh? With less politics and more—"

Lincoln knew a cue when he heard one. He leaned over to stop Nick's mouth with a kiss: more serious this time, with real intent.

"—flirting," Nick gasped when they came up for air. "I was going to say 'flirting.' But your suggestion is good too."

"You're gonna miss your train," Lincoln said, straight-faced, as if he wasn't sorely tempted to convince Nick to miss it, and his morning appointment too.

Nick swore and scrambled to his feet. "Next time. Count on it, Lincoln Lee."

He bolted down the station stairs while Lincoln watched him go, grinning. He liked Nick's idealism, and his pragmatic side too. He liked the honesty and Nick's openness. He liked, frankly, watching Nick's ass move even in those off-the-rack dress pants. He liked the way Nick said his name.

After a minute he got up and took the subway back to Fringe Division. He needed to finish a couple of things for Dahlander before his day really ended. But he'd be thinking about Nick the whole time.

* * *

The next morning started, not unpredictably, with Liv's inspection. "How was your date? No, don't tell me," she said, narrowing her eyes at him. "It went well, but you didn't get laid, because you're not wearing your stupid 'I got some' grin."

"If you already know, why'd you ask?" Lincoln reached past her to grab some sweetener for his tea, realizing even as he did so that he'd gone for the honey rather than the sugar because the taste would remind him of Nick. "I like him, though. A lot."

"Awww." Olivia smiled, seemingly genuinely pleased. "Really, that's great. It's been a while since you were interested in seeing someone for more than—you know. A night or two."

He knew better than anyone. Lincoln's reputation around the division was exaggerated, but not by much. Most of his colleagues who weren't in long-term relationships felt the same: why sleep alone when the next Fringe call might be the last? Or as Jim at the Boston bureau used to put it, morals were for people with a life expectancy. At least that's what Jim said before he got turned inside-out by a gravity inversion, proving the point by gruesome example. "Speaking of being interested—how's it going with my alter-nerd?"

"You should be nicer to him. He gave up a lot to come here, more than just coffee." Liv did that lip-twitch thing she did when she got uncomfortable and looked down. "And I know what you think, but it's not just about me. He really wants to help our world."

Lincoln bit back his first reply, and his second. "Yeah, I know. I guess we're not that different where it counts." He spotted Dahlander coming in through the command center doors. "Another day of hand-holding, not the fun kind. But hey, Liv?" He grinned when she glanced up. "You ever get to the point where you're screaming my name in a fit of passion, make sure not to tell me."

"You couldn't handle me," Liv shot back without missing a beat. And that was exceedingly true on several levels, so Lincoln just snickered and headed up to greet the new boss.

Around lunchtime he got a ping on his cuff, smiling when it announced the caller. Lincoln touched the 'wait' button, signaling to the person on the line that he was busy but would answer in a moment, and went to find a quiet spot.

He ducked into one of the unoccupied conference rooms. "Nick, hey! How'd your meeting go?"

"Better than I thought," Nick said, his voice echoing like he was standing in a restroom. "I, uh, pointed out that all the excitement was premature if Fringe Division hadn't approved the site for reopening. I hope that's okay."

Lincoln nodded to the empty room. "Perfect. I put in a word with my boss, too. The PR department needs to get some better messaging out fast."

"Great. That's awesome. I just hate to see people disappointed, you know?" Nick paused. "But hey, I didn't know you were a soccer star, too."

"Only if 'star' means 'decent player in a tiny league,'" Lincoln said, amused. He was the central midfielder, Liv was the lead striker. But Nick had evidently gone home and looked him up on the public databases, which was...pretty cute, really.

"Well, the other teams sound pretty scared of you. Actually, they sound even more scared of Agent Dunham."

"That's appropriate," Lincoln said, laughing. "She's _terrifying._ But, uh, we have a game this weekend, if you wanna—"

"Yeah! I was going to ask if I could come." Lincoln heard the faint sound of a door opening and other people's voices. Not unexpectedly, Nick said, "I gotta go. Call me later, okay?"

Lincoln agreed that he would and tapped off to end the call. He headed back to the command center, thankful that the screens signaling Fringe activity were still quiet. He passed by Liv on the way to his desk and said, "Nick's gonna come watch our match this Saturday. Try to make me look good, wouldya?"

Liv glanced at him sidelong. "This is where I'm supposed to say 'but Lincoln, you always look good,' right?"

"It's the truth, isn't it?" he said, and ducked her swatting hand.


	2. Strip down the barriers

The rest of the week passed in a haze of bureaucracy and anticipation. New Fringe events were at their lowest ebb in over a decade, which had everyone starting to speculate on the future of the division. There was always going to be a need for Fringe agents, but the frantic urgency to recruit and train new agents might be lessened. Still, Lincoln thought it was far too soon to be making any kind of significant change to the division. He felt proven correct by a small-but-potent vortex eruption on Thursday afternoon. All the protocols functioned as they should and no one died, so Lincoln took that as a sign that the system was working as intended.

The anticipation mostly stemmed from a couple of conversations with Nick over the course of the week. They talked about movies they'd seen recently, places they liked to go in the city, food they liked to eat, and anything else but work-related topics. Nick was a casual science fiction fan rather than a life-long devotee, but Lincoln wasn't about to discriminate on that basis. He didn't have room to talk; he hadn't read anything but science journals for years.

Lincoln spent most of those conversations lying in bed bouncing a rubber ball off the ceiling, one of the benefits of a top-floor apartment. Talking with Nick reminded Lincoln how long it'd really been since he'd had a normal conversation with a normal human being, one who didn't risk his life every time he went into work. But Nick was also close enough to the issues to understand the very real dangers and stresses involved.

Saturday dawned bright and cool. Lincoln got dressed in his team colors (or rather lack of color, white and black like the Fringe logo) and took the train over to the pitch in Bayside early to warm up. A couple of other players had the same idea, including a few from today's opposing team, the New York Fire Department. "Hey, Lee!" FDNY paramedic Deanna called out as he approached the field. "Ready to get your sweet ass kicked today?"

"Can't kick if you can't catch," Lincoln retorted cheerfully. He started a quick jog around the field to stretch out. The teasing was all in good spirits; Fringe Division and the FDNY worked more closely together than most people realized. When the division was first created to respond to the increasing environmental disturbances, fire-fighting procedures informed the initial vortex-containment techniques. Fire-fighters had been on the front lines along with Fringe Division personnel during the first few years of the division's life. They were still called out when the division needed extra personnel, and the two departments hosted a number of cooperative charity events.

Liv joined him on his second lap around the field. "Martinez is out today. Johns is subbing, so we're gonna have to be extra-alert on defense."

"Johns isn't bad," Lincoln protested mildly, but Liv eyed him sideways and he shrugged. "Okay. We can go 5-3-2, bring Randall up."

She grunted her agreement and they finished out the lap. By then the rest of the team had arrived, so he and Liv spent a couple of minutes going over the revised positions and strategies.

Nick appeared just before the start of game, dressed in jeans and a dark green henley. He waved down at his clothing. "Better, right?"

"You look good however," Lincoln told him, stealing a quick kiss for luck. The whistle shrilled to call him to the field. "Glad you made it. See you at half-time."

Both teams were in fine form and the ball went back and forth without getting anywhere near the goalposts for most of the first half. As the clock ticked up the FDNY team rallied and drove past Johns, just like Liv had warned. The defense fought back hard but it wasn't enough to prevent a goal, or the catcalls from the stands. A particularly low, gravelly voice among the spectators called out, "You got lead in your shoes? Move your asses!"

The clock ran out on the 1–0 score. The ref called half-time and Lincoln ran toward the stands, Liv on his heels. They found the cat-caller and simultaneously hurled themselves at him.

"Sweaty, gross, get off!" The offender struggled for a moment under their combined assault and then surrendered, hugging them back. "Yeah, fine, it's good to see you too."

"When'd you get back in town, Charlie?" Lincoln wiped his sticky hands on his friend's t-shirt as payback for the taunt.

"This morning. Miss me?" Charlie grinned up at him over Liv's shoulder and patted her back.

"What, this ugly mug?" Liv asked, kissing his cheek. "Nah, we just miss another body to run interference with the boss."

"The new boss, you mean." Charlie looked grim. "I heard about Broyles."

Lincoln shook his head. "Not here. We'll catch up later," he said as Nick came over. "Hey, I want you to meet someone. Nick, this is our good friend and fellow agent Charlie Francis. Charlie, Nick Lane's an old friend from when I lived in Philadelphia. He recently helped out on a case."

"Old friend, huh?" Charlie eyed him, reaching out to shake hands briefly. "Any embarrassing stories?"

Liv snickered. "I already grilled him. Get this, Charlie: Lincoln used to go out with Nick's _sister._ "

Charlie clutched at his chest and gasped. "Sister-sister? Like with girl parts and everything? We thought he was allergic."

"Long time ago," Lincoln protested while Nick laughed. "I got better."

"You're busted, buddy," Charlie said good-naturedly. "But hey, it's nice to meet someone else from Linc's mysterious past."

"Mysterious?" Nick asked, his eyebrow raised at Lincoln.

"Only because there's _nothing to say,_ like I keep telling these guys." Lincoln rolled his eyes. "I wasn't a juvenile delinquent or anything. Depressingly normal until I went to the Academy."

"And then you were warped into the Lincoln we know and sort-of love," Liv said, nodding. "So you say."

Lincoln smiled sweetly. "Ask my double. He'll confirm. He's still living that life." Liv's glare reminded him of his promise. "Sorry, that wasn't nice."

Charlie cleared his throat, breaking the tension. "Met him down at the Academy. Hell of a shock. You two forget how to call and warn a guy?"

"Things got really crazy," Liv said, shrugging. "Sorry, Charlie. You gonna be in on Monday?"

Lincoln took a step toward Nick as Liv and Charlie talked. "Enjoying the game?"

Nick grinned. "Yeah. You guys are really good." He paused. "Even if you left a giant hole in your defense."

Lincoln rolled his eyes. "We'll make up for it, you watch. Listen, hang out after, okay? There'll be crappy pizza and worse beer and I'll introduce you around."

"How could I resist," Nick said dryly. "I do love crappy pizza."

A shrill whistle came from the field, signaling that the game was about to start up again. Charlie had already moved over, clearing a place for Nick on the bench. "Be nice," Lincoln told Charlie as he turned toward the field.

Charlie's protest—"What? I'm always nice!"—followed Lincoln down the stairs.

The rest of the match was a tight one, ending in a draw thanks to a daring play by Liv in the last two minutes of the game. Lincoln preferred it when teams were evenly matched, and he felt satisfied by the efforts of his team and the opposing players.

By longstanding Long Island Soccer Football League tradition, the losers shelled out for pizza and beer after the game. A tie meant that everyone threw money into the pot. While Liv and Deanna sorted out the damages, Lincoln took a moment to catch up with Johns. Kevin seemed appropriately apologetic for his lapse on the field but not overly dejected about it, which was really all Lincoln cared about. He wanted to win, yeah, but these matches were meant as stress relief as much as anything. It wouldn't do anyone any good to go home worse off than when he arrived.

Nick seemed to have hit it off with Charlie, or at least Charlie's growling hadn't driven him away. Lincoln left them to discuss the game—mocking him, probably—while he made sure equipment got stowed and the field hadn't been too torn up.

One of the FDNY players bumped his shoulder as he was changing out of his soccer cleats. "Hey, Lincoln."

Lincoln looked up...and then farther up into a familiar face. "Sean, hi. Been a while."

"Too long. I was wondering if you wanted to hook up again sometime." Sean grinned, teeth flashing white against his dark skin. "Tonight?"

Any other day, he'd have been happy to take Sean up on the proposition. But Lincoln had different plans. "Ah, no, I'm seeing someone."

Sean's eyebrows went up. "Serious?"

Lincoln looked across the bleachers to where Nick was talking with Liv and Charlie. "I'm starting to hope so."

"Well, damn. Bad luck for me, good luck for you." Sean shook his head. "Call me if it doesn't work out."

Lincoln nodded absently, but his eyes were on Nick and he barely noticed when Sean walked away.

All the players descended like starving wolves when the food appeared. The pizza was considerably less crappy than Lincoln recalled, or someone'd found a different place to deliver to the field. It was just as well; he didn't remember if he had anything edible in the fridge at home. The beer, at least, as still as terrible as he remembered. Lincoln took only a swallow or two to clear the dust out of his throat and then abandoned the rest.

He glanced over at Nick, thinking about his next move. "Sorry about the pizza."

Nick looked at him, brow furrowed, and then laughed. "I can live with the disappointment. You were right about the beer, though."

As good a place to start as any. "I need to go home and get this dirt off. Wanna come with? We can kick back, grab a real beer, maybe get some dinner later."

Nick smiled, nodding like he hadn't noticed the clumsiness of Lincoln's invitation. "Sure."

He and Nick took the LIRR back into Manhatan. The other people in the car gave Lincoln a wide berth, between his Fringe Division logo and his soccer stink. Nick didn't seem to mind, leaning in as they talked about the game.

They exited at Penn Station, which still bore heavy use despite the Garden event. It had taken a while to convince the public that the trains and subways were safe, but the station proved too critical to the city's transportation needs for the uncertainty to last long. People moved through the station quickly, trying not to think about the disaster zone above their heads.

Lincoln nodded toward the southwest. "I'm just a couple of blocks over, right off Chelsea Park."

"Interesting area," Nick said, looking around with appreciation. "I don't get over here much. I keep meaning to come over and walk the High Line."

"Yeah, I got a sweet deal on a brownstone," Lincoln said, neglecting to mention he'd acquired the place for cheap because a minor Fringe incident occurred at the building years ago. A lot of people were reluctant to re-occupy a space that experienced Fringe activity, as if another incident was any more likely to happen there than anywhere else.

He opened the door to his apartment, feeling...not nervous, exactly, but uncertain. Usually there was no question about the next play here, but if Nick—

"Oh, man, I remember these," Nick said with delight, going over to look at the wall shelf of action figures in the living room.

Just like that, all hesitancy vanished. "Make yourself at home, I'm gonna wash off." It was just on the tip of his tongue to ask if Nick wanted to join him when Nick turned, an impish smile on his face.

"Need any help with that?"

Best day ever. "Well, you know, mud in hard-to-reach places."

"Happy to lend a hand." Nick followed Lincoln toward the back. "Nice apartment, by the— oh!"

Nick had stopped at the threshold, staring into the bathroom. Lincoln smirked. He'd spent a lot to garner precisely that kind of reaction, pouring the money he initially saved on the brownstone into upgrading the bathroom with the largest high-tech tub-and-shower combination he could fit into the place. Sometimes the only thing that could salvage a tough day was a good soak. Preferably with company.

"Okay, this is impressive."

"Thanks," Lincoln managed, dry-mouthed, as Nick moved into the room and pulled his shirt off with unselfconscious grace. He was lean but wiry, muscles evident if not in strict definition. Lincoln was suspicious of guys who worked that hard on their abs, anyway.

Nick paused, his hand halfway to his jeans. "This is okay, right? Not too pushy? I did say 'next time.'"

Lincoln reached out to hook his finger in the waistband of Nick's jeans and tug. Nick moved in close and Lincoln tilted his hips so Nick could feel just how "okay" this was. "That's what I'd hoped you meant."

Judging by the answering hardness against Lincoln's hip, Nick thought it was pretty okay too. "The whole time on the train, I wanted to lean over and do this." He bent slightly and licked a stripe up Lincoln's throat.

Lincoln groaned, sliding his arms around Nick's waist. "You want me dirty, I can stay dirty. Literally or metaphorically," he added.

Nick was snickering. "So accommodating. Doesn't that get you in trouble?"

"Sometimes." Lincoln pulled back just a little, enough to catch Nick's eyes. "I'm glad you followed me home."

"I couldn't stop thinking about you all week," Nick said, low, his hands trailing down Lincoln's arms. Then his nose wrinkled. "But seriously, get in the shower, you stink."

Laughing, Lincoln threw his uniform in a pile on the floor. His socks bordered on toxic, but laundry could wait for another day. Nick slipped out of the rest of his clothes, piling them more neatly on the countertop next to the sink.

Lincoln grabbed Nick's hand and pulled him into the shower. He could already tell this first time was going to be fast and to the point. That was fine, though. It'd take the edge off for slower exploration later.

Nick seemed fascinated by the Fringe Division tattoo on Lincoln's shoulder blade, tracing the lines with his finger and then his tongue. Lincoln returned the favor, enthralled by Nick's collarbones and his chin dimple and the curve of his hipbones.

During a brief tussle for the soap Nick pinned him against the shower wall, holding Lincoln's wrists loosely at his sides, and Lincoln couldn't stop the needy sound that escaped his throat.

"You like that, huh. Good to know." Nick smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement.

"There isn't much I don't like." Lincoln pushed off the wall to crowd in closer, enjoying the slide of Nick's skin against his.

Nick had really good hands, his long fingers adept at, yeah, finding all those places where dirt and sweat had settled. His hands kept moving long after Lincoln was clean by any definition, jacking Lincoln with smooth gentleness.

"I bet you could teach me a lot." Nick murmured against Lincoln's ear, his voice confidential. "I'm usually pretty vanilla, though."

"Vanilla is good," Lincoln panted, his hips involuntarily thrusting forward into Nick's firmly stroking hand. He probably should have controlled himself, Nick was the guest here and Lincoln was neglecting his host responsibilities. But he was all revved up and Nick's hands seemed to find all his sensitive spots by instinct. "Vanilla means...fundamentals. The guys who go right for the nipple clamps and spreader bars sometimes forget the...basics...."

He held on to Nick's shoulders, gasping as he came.

"'Basic.' I can live with that." Nick was still holding him gently. Lincoln really appreciated guys who didn't immediately disengage, after. "I'm not as...vocal as you, either."

"Nobody is," Lincoln grinned, still getting his breath back. "But let's see if I can make you moan."

He went to his knees. After today's game, a few more bruises would hardly matter. Lincoln angled Nick's hips so he wouldn't drown in the spray and went to town.

There was no risk here; he'd granted Nick access to the medical database with his latest clean blood test, and Nick had reciprocated in kind.

Lincoln's list of favorite things included the first moments with a new lover, learning what he liked, how he responded. He chose a straightforward approach this first time, nothing fancy, just took the head of Nick's cock in his mouth and licked gently at him. He slid his hands along the shaft, teasing and stroking, and ran exploratory fingers over Nick's testicles. Nick didn't twitch away from his touch at any point, which Lincoln thought was an excellent indicator for future endeavors.

True to his word Nick stayed mostly silent, shaking under Lincoln's hold, but at the end he let out a very credible (and very gratifying) groan and his hand flailed out for support against the shower wall.

Lincoln rinsed his mouth on the way up—some guys didn't like if he kissed them after, and until he learned more about Nick's preferences, he wasn't going to push. But Nick leaned into him, kissing Lincoln back with enthusiasm.

"Your water bill must be outrageous," Nick said when they finally broke apart.

Lincoln laughed, leaning past Nick to turn off the spray. "Worth it."

"Definitely." Nick eyed him sideways as they dried off. "Nipple clamps and spreader bars?"

" _These are a few of my favorite things,_ " Lincoln sang, only moderately off-key, then laughed at the look on Nick's face. "No, seriously. That stuff's fun, but I don't need it to have a good time. As you just proved."

Nick just looked at him for a long moment, long enough for Lincoln to wonder if he'd misstepped somewhere, and then he smiled. "Thought you mentioned a beer, too."

"Oh, right." Lincoln twisted a towel around his hips and padded out toward the kitchen.

Nick mimicked him and followed, peering over Lincoln's shoulder into the nearly empty fridge. "What do you live on?"

Lincoln bit off his first reply, barely. "Take out, most of the time. Or I eat with the team." He added, a little too defensively, "I do know how to cook. I just...don't bother most of the time."

"You'll have to make an effort for me sometime," Nick said, and Lincoln was struck by the casual assumption that there would be another time. And how comfortable he felt with that idea. Everything about the day seemed different, and Lincoln realized why: the afternoon lacked the frenzied intensity of most of his hook-ups. He didn't want Nick any less, but he didn't feel the need to rush things, either.

"There's a nearby bodega that'll deliver sandwiches and stuff like that if you're hungry," he suggested.

"I'm good." Nick smiled, taking the beer that Lincoln offered. "Just thirsty."

"That reminds me—" Lincoln reached into the fridge again and pulled out the half-empty water pitcher. He ran the sink tap for a minute before filling the pitcher and resetting the filter. He waved toward a cabinet. "Glasses are in there. The Batman one is mine."

"Far be it from me to get between a man and his superhero fetish."

"Not a fetish," Lincoln said with dignity. "Just _appreciative._ The man's got style."

"And a nubile teenaged sidekick," Nick said under his breath, but Lincoln chose not to address the crack in favor of future relations.

He waved toward the couch. "Relax. This is the 'kick back' segment of the day."

Nick looked dubious, maybe thinking about his damp towel and the cushions, but the couch had seen a lot worse than that. After a second he walked over and sat down. He glanced around, obviously looking for a coaster, but the battered surface of Lincoln's living room table tipped him off and he set his beer down on it without comment.

Without hesitation Lincoln stretched out, pillowing his head on Nick's thigh. "All right?"

Nick grinned down at him. "My friend Dana has a cat like you. There's a lap, he has to be in it. Do I need to pet you, too?"

"Wouldn't say no," Lincoln said without thinking, forgetting for a moment that he hated people messing with his hair. But he found himself humming happily as Nick's fingers stroked over his head. "Tell me about you, Nick Lane."

"What, you didn't look me up?"

Sure he had. "Databases only tell so much."

Nick owned a small house in Port Chester on the New Haven line. He'd been invited to stay there by his father's sister when he moved to New York. After she passed away, Nick discovered that she'd left him the house in her will. "Most days it's less than an hour commute. Gives me a chance to read a lot."

Nick's parents had been killed in a car crash several years ago, but his sister Kendra and her family still lived in Philadelphia and Nick took the train to visit them whenever he could. He liked his job and his city and his life and his dog.

Lincoln tried not to let his jealousy bleed through into his voice. "I always wanted a dog, but figured it wouldn't be fair with my schedule." Or the ever-present possibility of sudden death.

"You should come play with him sometime. I call him DT but his full name is, uh. Dr. Teeth."

Lincoln sat bolt upright to stare into Nick's face. "You named your dog after a muppet?"

Nick bit at his lip and looked self-conscious. "Yeah?"

"I would do you _just for that,_ " Lincoln declared fiercely.

Nick blinked at him and then started laughing. He tried to talk, failed, and kept laughing in between huge gulping breaths. By the time he got his voice back, he was almost wheezing. "You..! Really are! The biggest geek."

Lincoln stretched back against the couch, preening under Nick's gaze. "Toldya."

"Yeah, you did. Also, you're losing your towel." Nick smirked, his eyes still sparkling with laughter.

Lincoln glanced down at himself and shrugged. "Eh. This apartment is a clothing-optional space anyway."

"I like that policy." Nick picked at the label on his beer bottle for a second and then set it back down. "So, uh. I feel like I should be trying to find out everything about you but honestly, all I want to do right now is kiss you."

"That's not all, I hope." Lincoln smiled but didn't immediately move to answer Nick's whim. He wanted to see what Nick would do, given the initiative, and he wasn't disappointed; after a moment Nick leaned over and kissed him, slow and sweet.

Lincoln kept his hands flat on the couch, fighting the urge to grope, and let his tongue do the exploring. Nick moved over to straddle Lincoln's hips, his own towel forgotten. Lincoln dug his fingers into the fabric to keep from grabbing at Nick's...everything...and lost himself in the kiss, learning the shape and taste of Nick's mouth.

After what seemed like hours Nick broke off, breathing hard, and leaned in to rest his forehead against Lincoln's. "Wow."

"Yeah," Lincoln said, a little hoarsely, because he hadn't been kissed like that in a while and he'd forgotten how much he liked it. It'd been far too easy, these last few years, to jump right to the main event and skip the preliminaries.

Nick hummed a little. "What you said before, about there not being much you don't like...?"

"Uh-huh?"

Nick's hand had been casually resting on Lincoln's chest; now his fingers moved to gently pinch Lincoln's nipple, and Lincoln's hips jerked up as much as they could with Nick pinning them down.

Nick grinned. "I'm getting the idea."

And then again, there was something to be said for moving the proceedings along. "I've got a better idea. Come to bed with me."

Nick laughed, a happy sound. "I do like smart guys." He swung himself off Lincoln's lap and stood, looking down. "Would you throw me out for being a cliché if I said you looked good enough to eat?"

"I might throw you out if you don't." Lincoln got up, stepping in close. "Especially since you did such a good job of cleaning me up."

"Might not make it to the bedroom," Nick muttered. He looked like he was about to kneel down, but Lincoln figured one set of bruised knees was enough between the two of them.

He urged Nick into the bedroom and onto the bed. "Whatever you're comfortable with, Nick. We're still in the getting-to-know-you phase."

Nick stretched out, then shifted over to lie between Lincoln's legs. "There are definitely parts of you that I want to know better." He winced. "...wow, that was super-dorky."

"Naked time is a judgment-free zone."

"Well, thank goodness for that." Nick smiled and slid down the bed. Lincoln made room for him, liking Nick's dedication to follow-through.

"First guy I ever went out with taught me the ice-cream cone technique. You know?" Nick had a firm grip around the base of Lincoln's cock, holding him so that when he talked his breath flowed over the sensitive skin. "First, run your tongue up the sides to catch any drips." Nick's mouth followed his words, his lips fluttering against Lincoln's cock as he spoke again. "Then swipe over the top to smooth out the surface. And then lick." Lincoln could feel Nick's grin. "Repeat until satisfied."

Lincoln stretched his hands up over his head, lacing his fingers together under his pillow so he could concentrate on every sensation. Protestations of inexperience notwithstanding, Nick clearly knew what he was doing and wasn't shy in the least about proving it. Lincoln was entirely happy to lie back and let him do his excellent work.

He let himself be loud, and louder still as Nick really settled down to business. His mouth covered the head of Lincoln's cock and slid down, his hands resting on Lincoln's thighs and gently keeping Lincoln from bucking up. Fast learner, Lincoln thought with glee, because Nick was already applying his awareness of Lincoln's reaction to being lightly restrained that Lincoln had demonstrated in the shower.

Some other time they might turn this into an endurance game, or play a couple rounds of orgasm denial. Today Nick kept pace with Lincoln's arousal, sucking harder as Lincoln moaned his name and licking him through the aftershocks.

Nick crawled back up to sprawl across Lincoln's body, his cock hard against Lincoln's thigh. "It's shocking your neighbors don't file noise complaints."

"Good soundproofing," Lincoln said with a smirk. He added, a little more diffidently, "Besides, they know what I do." Which made him either a hero or a villain in their eyes and either way, most of the building's other tenants didn't go out of their way to confront him.

"I know what you do to me and yeah, I know how dorky that sounds." Nick grinned, rocking against Lincoln's leg.

"Not even a little." Lincoln pulled Nick's mouth to his, appreciating Nick's restraint in not initiating a kiss before Lincoln indicated his preference.

"I want to fuck you," Nick murmured, low against his mouth.

Lincoln arched up against him. "God, please."

"But not 'til the third date," Nick said solemnly, and Lincoln tilted his head back to see if he was joking.

Nick smiled, a little sheepishly. "Seriously. Is that okay? I kind of have a superstition about that. Every time I've broken it, the relationship didn't end well."

Lincoln ran a soothing hand over Nick's shoulders. "You just blew my mind, another other things. I got no complaint."

"Relationship" had a nice ring to it, though. He'd almost forgotten how those worked. Lincoln let his fingers wander down Nick's sides, careful not to tickle. "Tell me what you want, Nick."

Nick blinked at him, seeming startled, and Lincoln hurried to clarify. "I can think of a number of things I want to do with _this._ " His hand crept down, stroking over Nick's cock. "But you should tell me before I take matters into my own hands."

"I like your hands," Nick said hoarsely. He thrust against Lincoln's leg, rubbing against him. "Just touch me."

"Wait a sec." Lincoln reached over into the bedside drawer, pulling out a bottle of clear liquid. "I have a no chafing policy, too."

Nick laughed, and then gasped as Lincoln's slick hand glided over his cock. He buried his face against Lincoln's shoulder, breathing fast.

Nick's cock fit his hand beautifully, like it was meant to be there. Lincoln grinned a little at the overblown romanticism of the thought but damn, Nick felt good. On him, against him. In him, magical third date willing. But for now, Lincoln was content with feeling Nick shudder and sigh as he came.

Lincoln might've been game for round three, but they both fell asleep before he could make the suggestion.

* * *

They woke as the sun was reaching toward the horizon. Lincoln stretched, wincing at the stickiness but mostly feeling too good to care.

Nick yawned, rolling to look at him. "You promised me dinner."

Lincoln rolled his eyes. "So greedy. Well, we've got two choices: order in or go out."

Nick smirked. "I figured. I've seen the state of your fridge." He glanced up at the small window in Lincoln's bedroom—it was high enough that it didn't need blinds. "Looks like the weather's still decent."

"Out it is." Lincoln pried himself out of bed and then turned back, his voice catching on the question before he even realized what he was saying. "So you'll stay tonight?"

Nick nodded. "Yeah, I just need to make a call."

Lincoln didn't mean to eavesdrop—no, he absolutely did. Nick was talking to someone about....

Oh, of course. He was making arrangements for someone to feed and walk his dog. Lincoln was so used to having to look after only himself that he'd forgotten what having direct responsibility for another living being was like.

He washed up while Nick finished his call and went fishing for clean clothes when Nick took his turn in the bathroom. Dressed and hungry, they walked a couple of blocks south toward 21st Street. "Here we go."

Nick glanced at the menu in the window. "Oh, hey, you didn't have to pick a vegan place for me. I can find something to eat anywhere. And I'm not actually that strict about it." He dropped his voice into a conspiratorial whisper, as if the restaurant might shun him for the admission. "I'll eat eggs or even a piece of fish occasionally."

"Good to know, but honestly, I've tried just about every place in the area and I'm a repeat visitor at this one." Lincoln opened the door for Nick and nodded to the woman at the hostess stand. "Hey, Janie."

"Lincoln! Always good to see you. And your guest, welcome." She smiled and showed them to a corner table. "Erin will take good care of you."

Within moments the waitress—Erin—appeared with menus, filled water glasses, and a basket of fresh rolls. "Janie says you like the peppermint tea?"

"Uh, yeah. Nick?"

"Sound good to me." Nick looked up from studying his menu as Erin moved off. "I actually meant to ask before, how's work going?"

"Work is—" Lincoln started, and then stopped.

"Lincoln?"

Lincoln shook his head slowly. "I was going to stick to the usual deflections. But I realized I don't have to."

Nick tilted his head in obvious curiosity but waited for him to go on.

"We knew the Bridge helped, but it took a while before we understood how much." Lincoln picked up a roll and started tearing it into pieces, the activity helping to focus his thoughts. "I've gone through reports from other branches. We're out on fewer calls, and most of the incidences aren't registering in the higher hazard ranges. Air quality's up nearly everywhere. The vortexes are smaller." He pushed the pile of shredded bread off to the side and dusted his hands off. "It's not like Fringe Division's suddenly going to become obsolete. But it feels like things are...."

"Manageable?" Nick suggested, and Lincoln nodded.

"Yeah. Like we actually have the chance to focus on saving lives instead of just patching the worst damage. We've all been in triage mode so long, it's...." He sat back, blinking against the sudden sting in his eyes. "I, sorry, I— "

Nick got up, moving around the table to sit next to Lincoln and slide an arm around his shoulders. Lincoln leaned into him, grateful. No one paid much attention to spontaneous outbursts in public places; emotional flare-ups were commonplace these days. But it'd been a long time since Lincoln had a _moment_ with anyone but Liv or Charlie, and longer since he'd needed to vent in public. Nick's calm breath against his ear kept him from losing it completely.

"It's not just you," Nick said softly. "Look around. People aren't so frightened anymore. They have hope."

Lincoln took a few deep breaths, almost not shuddering by the end of them. "I can see why you're good at your job."

Nick blinked, a surprised smile starting to creep across his mouth. "Uh, thanks."

"I'm okay. I just...really hadn't thought about things 'til now. Memo to self," Lincoln said, tapping at his cuff. "Tell Dahlander to remind people that psych resources are available to Fringe personnel." He added toward Nick, "'Cause you're right, I'm sure I'm not the only one."

"Everyone's learning to live in a new world." Nick pulled his arm back with a final squeeze to Lincoln's shoulder. "In a way, we're all coming out of the Amber."

Lincoln nodded, thoughtful. "You should write that down. It's a good perspective."

Erin finally reappeared, having waited until Lincoln's sniffling stopped. She put the teapot down along with a few extra napkins. "I'll be back to take your orders in a minute," she said, all brisk efficiency. She'd probably learned somewhere along with way that offering sympathy only prolonged the episode. Lincoln didn't blame her in the least.

Once their orders were in, at Nick's urging Lincoln talked about his family, also still in Philadelphia. "Dad's kept up running the hardware store, but he's been talking about retiring. I know he wishes I would've been interested in taking it over, but..." Lincoln shrugged. "Carol—my stepmom—she's been great about talking him down about it. She's been great, period. I don't get to see them enough."

"I should drag you with me the next time I head back to see Kendra," Nick said, sounding decisive. The declaration held enough assumptions to keep Lincoln smiling through the rest of the meal.

"So, this is a puzzle," Lincoln said abruptly as they finished eating, because he'd been wondering. "I just can't figure out why you aren't seeing anyone."

Nick shrugged. "Same as you, I guess? Work takes so much time." He hesitated. "And I was in a pretty steady relationship until a couple of months ago. After we broke up I wasn't really in a serious dating mood for a while."

"I haven't been either. For a long time." His bed hadn't been empty, and Lincoln refused to entertain a moment's regret about that. But if things were really different now, he could broaden his horizons. He could look ahead, start planning for a future without the certainty of the world's ending within a foreshortened lifespan.

He liked the idea of doing that with Nick. He especially liked that he wasn't freaking out about the idea. Being with Nick felt...easy, natural. He wanted to feel a lot more of that.

He realized that Nick was watching him, waiting for him to finish. "But I'm not, uh, allergic to the idea."

"I wasn't fishing," Nick said quietly. Then he smiled, the expression lighting his eyes. "But this would be a deal breaker: What's your policy on dessert?"

Lincoln grinned back. "The more sugar, the better."

He and Nick polished off a monstrous slab of perfectly credible apple cobbler, chasing every last crumb to clean the plate. "...okay, that might've been too much," Lincoln groaned. "Extra-long morning runs for me this week."

"I think we preemptively worked off those calories earlier," Nick murmured, grabbing the check while Lincoln was still laughing. He shook his head when Lincoln tried to contribute. "You paid last time. I am a...well, a decently salaried civil servant."

They walked back outside into the cool evening air. Lincoln glanced over. "You wanna head back, or...?"

Nick waved his hand around at their surroundings. "This is your neighborhood. Show me where you like to go for fun."

Easy request. Lincoln took Nick to a local club, the one Lincoln went to when he was looking for some no-strings-attached distraction. He realized it was a mistake almost as soon as they found seats at the bar. Too noisy, too crowded, too many people who knew him and wanted his attention.

Nick looked like he was willing to tough it out, but Lincoln shook his head and pointed back toward the front door. Nick shot him a quizzical look but nodded, moving smoothly through the crowd and outside again.

"I forgot, can't talk in there," Lincoln said quickly.

Nick tilted his head. "I didn't mind...it's fun watching people dance. I'm a total flailbot when I try, though," he added quickly.

"'Flailbot.' You could not actually be any cuter." Lincoln kissed him right there on the sidewalk, people grumbling as they went around the human obstructions. "But I have a better idea."

They walked a few blocks over to a much smaller, quieter door on a side street.

"They have an open mic here, when the professional musicians take a break. It's usually pretty good," he added to Nick's dubious look. "And we can talk between sets."

Lincoln ordered from the selection of microbrews and they found an unoccupied table.

Nick saw him eyeing the guitar leaning against the stage, available for anyone's use. "Do you play?"

Lincoln groaned. "No, and that's, like, the one big regret of my life. No talent for it. And I was gonna be a rock star when I was eight."

"Oh, so that's why the hair," Nick said, grinning.

"Pffft. You love the hair. But wait, how about you?"

"I play a little," Nick said cautiously, and laughed when Lincoln nudged him in the direction of the sign-up sheet.

If this were a silly romantic comedy, Lincoln mused, Nick would have a fabulous singing voice and he would sing a love song and the movie would end on a happily ever after. Possibly with kissing in the rain.

Nick, it turned out, had a perfectly decent if not spectacular singing voice. And he wisely stayed away from love songs, sticking with up-tempo popular stuff. Lincoln decided that the happily ever after was still up for grabs. They'd already kissed in the shower, anyway.

The smattering of applause when Nick finished his set seemed to catch him by surprise. He put the guitar down gently and headed back over toward Lincoln, smiling at the people who patted him on the back or flashed a thumbs-on on the way. "Wow, that went over better than I thought."

"You were great. Seriously," Lincoln told him, absolutely sincere. "I could be a groupie."

"Hmm. Adoring looks, unadulterated admiration, I could get used to that," Nick mused.

"Blowjobs on demand," Lincoln murmured, keeping his voice low.

Nick blinked, the tips of his ears turning red. "That too. _Obviously._ " He took a long drink of his neglected beer, trying and failing to hide a delighted grin. He coughed a little, sputtering at Lincoln's stare. "Um. What?"

"I was wrong before. You did get cuter." Lincoln grinned at him, picking up his own drink. He clinked his bottle against Nick's. "To, uh. Discovering new talents."

Nick flushed harder at that. "You're bad for my ego."

"No worry. Mine's big enough for both of us." Lincoln waved toward the stage, where an a capella trio of women was about to perform. "I've heard them before, they're good."

They sat through another couple of sets, then headed back to Lincoln's apartment. "I've got, uh, an extra toothbrush."

Nick smiled at him. "The perfect host. Although...." he laughed a little. "That's always funny to me. It's not like I haven't already had everything of yours in my mouth."

Lincoln heard himself giggle and would have been embarrassed about it, but Nick seemed to think it was cute. "See, that right there—you come off all innocent, and then filthy things fall off your tongue."

"...that was a straight line, wasn't it."

"Ain't nothin' straight about my lines," Lincoln drawled in his most affected tone. Nick rolled his eyes, which was precisely the correct response.

But it'd been a long day and Lincoln was more tired than they'd realized, yawning by the time they got back to his apartment. Nick curled up next to him, not clinging but unmistakably present. He could, Lincoln thought, definitely get used to this.

* * *

Lincoln woke to find Nick already up and indecently awake, sitting against the headboard and reading off his datapad.

Nick caught his movement and smiled. "Hope I didn't wake you. I usually get up early to walk DT."

"You didn't." He had to ask, slyly, "It's still the second date, right?"

Nick laughed, putting down his pad. "Well, it's not a hard and fast rule—"

"No, no, that's your tradition, I wouldn't want to jinx anything." Lincoln paused. "Just remember the 'hard and fast' thing for another time. Though slow works too. Or anything in between." Nick started laughing again, which delighted Lincoln to no end. "Man, you're easy."

"Not easy enough, apparently," Nick gasped.

He was joking, but Lincoln didn't want him to get the wrong idea. "No, hey, I respect your, um, self-control."

"You're making it difficult," Nick murmured.

Lincoln pushed up against him. "Hard, even. Let me do something about that?"

Nick's hands were already starting to wander over Lincoln's chest. "Yeah. Yeah— _oh._ "

Lincoln found a spot on Nick's throat that had him quivering, straining against Lincoln with every swipe of Lincoln's tongue. Sometime he'd put a mark there, if Nick let him. At an appropriate time Lincoln would need to let Nick know he could use his teeth, in moderation. He didn't want the weekend to end without a physical reminder to carry with him until the next time they saw each other.

"Wait, let me—"

Nick scooted around so he and Lincoln were positioned head to groin and Lincoln grinned appreciatively at his new view. He leaned closer, taking Nick's cock between his lips, and groaned as he felt Nick do the same.

Lincoln made it a personal challenge, trying not to thrust while taking Nick's cock as deep as he could. He couldn't manage much finesse in this position but tried to make up for it in enthusiasm, reaching around Nick's narrow hips to squeeze his ass. This time, he was determined, Nick would come first.

A small personal victory would be an excellent way to start the day.

* * *

Some considerable time later they staggered out of the apartment to grab breakfast from the café at the corner. Lincoln was still too high on endorphins to think about the rest of the day, but Nick seemed energized, smiling at him over his bagel. "I'm surprised you didn't have to work this weekend."

"I, uh, cleared my schedule." Lincoln glanced down at his breakfast, feeling himself actually blushing. Bizarre. "I mean, I'm always on call if there's an emergency, but otherwise I told Dahlander that I needed some time off."

"I'm glad." Nick hesitated a moment. "Did you, um, have any other plans for today? Because if not, you're welcome to come home with me. You can meet DT. If you're good I'll even make you dinner."

"What, I haven't proved that I'm good by now?" Lincoln asked, pouting for all he was worth. "I'll have to try harder, I guess."

"Any harder and something might break," Nick said, his voice full of dry amusement. "I just— it's been great, uh, hanging out with you."

"Or some other euphemism." Lincoln leaned back in the booth and smiled. "Yeah. I'd like that."

They took the New Haven line from Grand Central up to Nick's neighborhood. The small house stood in a neat, quiet neighborhood. Most of the furniture was old, probably having belonged to Nick's aunt. A few vintage movie posters hung on the walls, and there was a small shelf of antique-looking books.

Lincoln poked around the shelves in the living room, noting a chess set on a side table. "You play?"

"When I find a worthy opponent, sure." Nick grinned. "You're welcome to try your luck."

"And this guy?" Lincoln did his best to keep a straight face as he held up a bedraggled teddy bear.

"That's Snuggles. You be polite," Nick ordered. "He's been with me since I was born."

Lincoln reseated the bear on its chair with proper reverence. "Hey, weird coincidence—Liv was born in Jacksonville, too. You could've gone to preschool together."

"Huh, I guess. I don't remember too much. We moved to Philly when I was three." Nick glanced over at him. "I should pick DT up from the dog sitter. She lives just a couple of blocks over."

Several times a week, Nick explained as they walked, he sent DT to doggie day care so he wouldn't go stir-crazy in Nick's small backyard. He'd also taken DT for training as a therapy dog and volunteered at a local children's hospital as time allowed. "The kids love him, and it keeps him active. If he doesn't have something to do, he gets a little rambunctious." Nick paused. "Uh, I don't mean to be one of those people who can't stop talking about his dog."

Lincoln grinned at him. "It's adorable. How'd you adopt him?"

"Jenna—you'll meet her in a minute—was fostering a couple of puppies. I went over to see them and one came right over, huge paws and all, and shoved his head right under my hand." Nick laughed. "He's been bossing me around ever since."

Jenna the dog sitter was a cheerful lady who wrote romances for a living and who, obviously, loved dogs. She greeted Nick fondly, eyed Lincoln with considerable interest, and remarked into the air that she'd be happy to watch over DT any time Nick wanted to spend an evening away.

"I think you've just earned a starring role in her next novel," Nick said, amused, as they went around the side of the house to the yard.

Nick's dog was a gorgeous red setter with a huge grin, and Lincoln saw the resemblance to his namesake immediately. DT greeted his owner with a restrained single bark and a frantically waving tail.

"DT, sit," Nick said with authority. The dog sat, looking at his master attentively. "This is Lincoln. Shake."

The dog offered a polite paw and Lincoln took it, bemused. Nick laughed and bent to ruffle the dog's fur. "Good boy."

"Thanks," Lincoln said dryly.

Nick grinned. "Pretty sure you qualify as the opposite type."

"I do respond well to discipline," Lincoln offered, smirking at the look on Nick's face.

"I'm starting to wonder why they let you out in public."

DT nosed against Lincoln's hand and Lincoln dropped to his knees to pet the happily wriggling animal. He laughed, mostly at himself. "I have this picture in my locker at work, me and a dog. People keep asking if she's mine." Lincoln submitted his face for washing. "Belonged to a friend. He's gone now."

He glanced up to see Nick's distressed face. "—oh! No, not like that, Robert moved away with his family. I always tell him I miss his dog more than him."

Nick nodded, smiling. "Well, I owe DT some park time, if that's okay."

"Sounds great." Lincoln stood, brushing himself off.

They walked another few blocks to an off-leash park. The dog took off running as soon as Nick set him loose, barking and looking back toward his master. Nick grinned and threw a much-chewed rubber ball, which DT caught easily. He trotted back over and dropped the sopping ball at Lincoln's feet, looking up at him expectantly.

"You've made another conquest," Nick said, amused.

Lincoln smiled at the "another" but managed not to blow it by commenting. He and Nick chased the dog and each other over the grass, enhancing the game with a discarded frisbee.

After a while Nick sprawled out on the ground and Lincoln followed suit. It was, Lincoln realized, a perfect morning: lying on the grass watching the dog run around, just relaxing in the sun.

Lincoln couldn't remember the last time he'd stayed still for so long and been so content to do nothing at all. It'd been just as long since he'd spent time with a guy he was fucking, well, not actually fucking. It felt...normal in a completely amazing way.

"I don't invite just anyone back to my place, you know," Nick said in his ear.

Lincoln hummed, pleased. "You did on our first date. Almost."

Nick propped himself up on his elbows. "Yeah, but I knew you weren't just anyone. Even then." He hesitated. "It's not like I really believe in fate or anything, but—"

"But meeting up again like that, what were the odds?" Lincoln said softly, and Nick nodded. "Nick, I— I like you. I like spending time with you."

"My dog likes you," Nick said thoughtfully. "I guess that means you're okay."

Lincoln grabbed him, laughing, and rolled them over so that he ended up sprawled on top of Nick. "Wouldn't want to deprive your _dog_ of my company," he mocked, and kissed Nick to keep himself from letting the sappy thoughts going through his head from bursting out of his mouth.

"Yeah, Lincoln," Nick said when they parted. "I like you too."

* * *

"There!" Liv crowed when she spotted him on Monday morning. "That's the grin."

Lincoln shrugged and nodded; no point in trying to hide it.

She didn't let up. "Figured you were busy when I didn't hear from you the rest of the weekend. I guess you were...tied up? Did you remember to eat?"

Lincoln put on his best shocked expression, which fooled no one. "Filthy. Absolutely filthy. You gonna kiss my double with that mouth?"

"If he's lucky." Liv grinned. "I like your guy. I promise not to shoot him."

"Not even if he breaks my heart?" Lincoln asked, aiming for a bantering tone, but Liv turned to look at him with surprise on her face.

"Oh, wow. You got it bad." She waved Charlie over excitedly. "You'll never believe it. Lincoln's in luuuuve."

"Who, that Nick guy?" Charlie paused, then threw an arm around Lincoln's shoulders and squeezed him close, his mouth grazing Lincoln's temple. "Well, good. I'm glad."

"Slow down, guys. No one's buying any rings yet," Lincoln protested. "I just— okay, _fine._ He's smart and hot and basically perfect and I can't wait to see him again. Happy?"

"Yes," Olivia and Charlie said together, and this time Liv leaned over to kiss his cheek. "It's good that you have someone to occupy yourself with. Aside from us."

Lincoln looked at them, thinking how much had changed in the last few months. Charlie had married Mona the Bug Lady, Liv was well on her way to a significant relationship with the other Lincoln, and he was thinking about Nick at all hours. "This is dire. We're all getting domesticated."

"Livvy, I think our little boy's finally growing up," Charlie said, and laughed as Lincoln winced. "Happens to the best of us, buddy."

"You know what, though, feels pretty good." Lincoln grinned at his friends. It was true, though he hadn't realized how much until he said it out loud. Hot new affair flooding his body with phenylethylamine, yeah, of course he was happy. That was just chemistry.

This felt like more than chemistry, though. The start of a relationship usually carried a measure of uncertainty but this time, Lincoln didn't feel any need to play the "does he like me" game in his brain. Frankly, he was out of practice with that kind of thing. And Nick had given him enough cues, verbal and otherwise, to more than suggest he was interested right back.

Nick had also given him a lovely hickey on his hip that Lincoln felt every time he moved. Lincoln casually brushed his hand across it, savoring the ache. "So what's on tap for today?"


	3. Reach to the real you inside

Lincoln spent the week keyed up with anticipation for their third real date, planned for the following weekend because he and Nick both had full schedules. They could've met up for lunch at least once during the week but agreed that first, they were both looking forward to more time spent together than a quick rendezvous would allow; and second, that even a brief meeting was likely to leave them more frustrated than anything. He couldn't speak for Nick, but Lincoln had his hopes set especially high. Nick had as much as promised....

Lincoln knew he was being ridiculous. It wasn't like everything they'd done in bed so far wasn't completely satisfying. But Lincoln knew what he liked, he knew what he wanted. He wanted, more than anything, for Nick to fuck him.

Nick already had plans to take DT to the children's hospital on Saturday morning, so he'd suggested that Lincoln meet him at the house after that. Lincoln spent a jittery ride up to Port Chester, trying to manage his expectations and failing completely. He would not, he told himself sternly, put his hands down Nick's pants the moment he saw him. No matter the provocation.

He walked the half-mile or so from the train station to Nick's neighborhood. Lincoln frowned at the car parked outside Nick's place until he remembered that Nick had a car-sharing account for when he needed to take DT somewhere, like today.

Nick answered the doorbell within seconds. "Hey! Good timing. We got back from the hospital a little while ago and DT's all tired out." He waved Lincoln inside. "Do you, uh, want to grab some lunch? We can—"

"No," Lincoln said, half strangling on the word. He dropped his overnight bag and stepped forward to take Nick's face in between his hands and kiss him. He counted that as a victory for self control, considering.

Nick groaned and surged against him just as urgently. They stood in the foyer straining against each other until Nick pulled away with a gasp. "Oh, God, can we please be naked now?"

"And you were trying to divert me with food," Lincoln mocked, his hands already busy on the buttons of Nick's jeans. "A perfectly valid tactic, but—"

"Less talking," Nick said, wrestling Lincoln's shirt over his head. "More— oh, _fuck_ yes." His hips jerked as Lincoln's fingers stroked over the head of his cock. "Bedroom. Now."

"Bossy. I like bossy," Lincoln threw back, already moving through the house. Nick smacked his ass and Lincoln glanced at him, grinning. "I like that, too."

" _Lincoln,_ " Nick managed, sounding as strangled as Lincoln had been a moment ago. "I couldn't concentrate all week, thinking about this."

Lincoln stopped, his pants hanging half off his hips where he'd shoved them down, and turned. "About what, specifically?"

Nick's restraint had evidently reached a breaking point. He crowded in close, his hands dropping down to grab Lincoln's ass. "About you being here, in my bed. About getting my fingers in you. About fucking you."

Dirty talk, Lincoln thought, dazed. The day kept getting better and better. He flexed his ass under Nick's hands and leaned in to breathe in Nick's ear. "So what are you waiting for?"

Nick swore under his breath and squeezed Lincoln's ass, then let him go with a slight push toward the bedroom. "You're the one who stopped!"

"Won't do it again," Lincoln vowed, and he didn't, they didn't, until he and Nick were naked and tangled together like they were trying to crawl under each other's skin.

But Lincoln was perfectly capable of self-control when he had a particular goal in mind. He eased down gradually and lay on his back, knees raised. Nick wasn't slow to take the hint.

He breathed into the feel of Nick's careful fingers slicking him, stretching him. Nick took his time, kissing Lincoln until they were both panting and Lincoln was pushing into Nick's hand with every slight movement.

"This is for you, what do you want?" Nick sounded breathless, eager.

He wanted Nick every way. He wanted to feel Nick spread out long against his back, breathing hard in his ear. He wanted to hook his legs over Nick's shoulders and look up into Nick's eyes.

But this first time, he also didn't want Nick to worry about hurting him or going too fast, and the best way to do that was to take the lead.

"Lie down," he told Nick, and after a single questioning glance Nick got the gist. Lincoln swung himself over to sit over Nick's hips, rubbing against him. Nick arched up, groaning. Without prolonging the anticipation Lincoln got a firm hold on Nick's cock and started sliding down.

Nick's hand clutched at his thigh. Lincoln could feel him trembling with the urge to thrust. "Lincoln. Slow. Go—"

"Yeah," Lincoln said dreamily. He slowed down, bracing his hands on Nick's chest for leverage and taking his cues from Nick's restrained movements. Sometime he was gonna make Nick really go for it, make Nick see what he could take. But this was good, better than good, looking down into Nick's face and seeing his stunned pleasure. Feeling Nick in him, the way they fit, the heat they made together.

Nick ran his hands over Lincoln's chest, stroked his arms and thighs and reached up to touch Lincoln's cheek. "You feel amazing."

"That was my line." Lincoln lifted himself slightly and sank back down, loving the way Nick's eyelids fluttered. He let his own head fall back and his eyes slide shut, wanting to capture every sensation so he could remember every moment of what he hoped would be the first of many times.

"God." Nick's voice sounded hoarse with amazement. "Would love...to have a picture of you. Just like that."

Lincoln opened his eyes and grinned, bearing down slightly. Nick groaned. "Don't...tell me you already have...."

"Not with you," Lincoln said, thinking: _none that count._ He leaned forward to distract himself from that train of thought, brushing his mouth over Nick's. "We could, you know. You could privacy-lock a picture on your datapad, look at it whenever you want."

"Never get any work done again," Nick said, all in a rush. "Lincoln—"

He felt Nick's knees come up as Nick put his feet flat on the bed. Nick pushed up, his hands firm on Lincoln's hips and an intense look on his face. Lincoln grinned and increased the pace until they were bucking against each other, messy and uncoordinated and perfect.

Afterward they sprawled across the bed, sweaty and sated. Nick reached out to drag Lincoln's arm across his chest and hold it there. Lincoln spent a confused moment trying to remember why he didn't usually do the snuggling thing, but he really was too content to care. 

Nick's fingers traced random patterns over Lincoln's arm, just firm enough not to tickle. After a long pause he spoke, his voice soft with satisfaction. "Worth all the anticipation."

"Mmmm-hmm." Lincoln scooted in closer. "I'd be happy to return the favor sometime."

He didn't miss the way Nick went still under his arm, and he lifted his head to see Nick's face. "...uh, if you want. Or if not, that's okay, whatever you're comfortable with."

Nick smiled, a little hesitantly. "I...wouldn't mind trying? I mean, I've done it before, it was fine, just not...well." His expression was rueful. "It wasn't as much fun for me as you were having."

As far as Lincoln was concerned everyone should have equal amounts of fun doing everything, but he was willing to concede that individual preferences varied. "I'd try to change your mind, if you wanted. But I will insist on one thing."

"Hmm?"

"You're going to let me rim you," Lincoln said in a wistful voice, already imagining it. "After a shower, you'd still be all wet, and I'd lick the water off. You'd stretch out and let me kiss my way down your back, over your ass, and you'd open up for me so I could really get my tongue on you."

Nick's eyes were wide, his mouth half-open. He seemed to be barely breathing, hanging on Lincoln's every word.

Lincoln loved an audience. "I'd go slow, tracing over your skin with my tongue until you were begging me to fuck you with it. And then I'd slip it inside and you'd feel every tiny movement, my breath on your ass, I wouldn't stop until you came."

Nick's hand clenched down on Lincoln's arm, his fingers pressing in a little too hard. " _Lincoln_ ," he said, almost desperately, and then shook with helpless laughter. "You're impossible. A sex demon."

"Sex angel," Lincoln corrected. "I'm that good." He did a double take and stared at Nick. "Wait, no one's ever done that for you before?"

Nick shook his head slowly, blushing. "Not like that. Just...perfunctory, I guess?"

"Oh my GOD." Lincoln bounced out of bed, pointing toward the bathroom. "Shower. Now. You're not waiting another second."

Nick followed, not even making a pretense of objecting, but he stopped when he saw Lincoln's arm. "I bruised you! I'm sorry."

"I'm not." Lincoln brushed his fingers over the red mark and shivered at its sensitivity. "You were excited. I like that."

"Lincoln...." Nick stepped in close. "You excite me. Just being you. You don't have to do anything special."

"It's not special, it's just—" Lincoln stopped, belatedly hearing what Nick hadn't said. "I want to do this for you. Because it'll feel good for you and I want you to have that. You'll let me?"

"'Let' you," Nick said under his breath. "As if I wasn't so turned on right now, as if I could say no."

Lincoln didn't say anything else. He didn't need to as Nick cleaned off, got himself ready, stretched out on the bed still dripping wet; he didn't need words as he plied all his skill toward making Nick moan, making him writhe and whimper until his voice gave out. And after, when Nick was all but unconscious lying next to him, Lincoln stared into his face and knew that he wanted to do it again because making Nick feel that good was almost (almost) better than getting off himself.

It was only their third date and Olivia was right. He was in love.

* * *

Lincoln already knew his biggest challenge would be keeping his new revelation from falling out of his mouth without due consideration. Or at least, a reasonable pretext.

Brain chemicals, he kept reminding himself. And pheromones. And the fact that he and Nick seemed to be on the same wavelength about most things, from sex to politics. Nick wasn't afraid of Lincoln's job, that was huge.

It really had been a long time since Lincoln had been with anyone he wanted a genuine relationship with, and it was kind of aggravating to realize in retrospect that he'd subconsciously chosen his bed partners around that criteria. He'd liked them all well enough, yeah, he had enough self respect for that. But Nick was different.

All the more reason not to blow it by coming on too strong or making rash declarations. Lincoln just had to keep reminding himself that the world wasn't going to end tomorrow anymore; they could take things at a reasonable pace.

He'd managed to drill that resolution into his brain by the time they pried themselves out of bed and found clothes. "Hungry?" Nick asked, and Lincoln nodded with enthusiasm. He'd grabbed a slightly stale bagel out of the bin this morning, too eager to stop for a real breakfast. Or lunch.

He watched Nick sidelong as he poked around the kitchen, hmmming over his ingredients. Nick finally turned back to him. "I was thinking about trying something different, a strawberry and blue cheese risotto. You game?"

At this point, Lincoln probably would have agreed to anything. "Sure. Sounds interesting."

Nick grinned. "'Interesting' like 'I like a challenge,' or 'interesting' like 'that sounds repulsive'?"

Lincoln laughed. "Curious to see if it'll work. I mean, if those flavors work for a salad...."

"Exactly!" Nick beamed at him, then started pulling ingredients out of the cupboard and fridge. "Would you wash and slice up the strawberries? I needed to use them anyway. I always buy way too many at the farmer's market."

Lincoln attended to his assignment, smiling a little at the memories the task evoked. He'd always liked helping in the kitchen, early on with his mother and later with Carol. Some of the strawberries had turned a little mushy, but that wouldn't matter for their intended use.

He found a particularly red, firm strawberry and sliced off the stem. "Open."

Nick glanced at him, saw the berry Lincoln was holding out, and obediently opened his mouth.

Lincoln let his fingers linger on Nick's lips and trailed his hand down Nick's throat as he swallowed. "That looked delicious."

"Um, yeah." Nick had on a dazed look, staring at him. "This whole week—" He took a gulping breath. "I looked up 'spreader bars' after you mentioned them last time. I couldn't stop thinking about you, stretched out like that. I had to jerk off in the restroom at work before I could get anything done."

Lincoln stared back, trying to remember how to breathe."Jesus, Nick."

Nick put his hand down on the counter like he needed it for support. "I...didn't mean to say that now."

"Why not?" Lincoln stepped in a little closer, already thinking about improvising restraints with whatever Nick had on hand around the house.

Nick waved vaguely toward the pan he'd set out, where the rice was already starting to toast in butter and herbs. "There are definitely things I want to explore with you...but maybe after dinner?"

Lincoln thought about arguing but his stomach vetoed the idea. "That's fair." He leaned in anyway, his mouth against Nick's ear. "But next time, I can bring along an interesting toy or two. Wouldn't want all that imagination to go to waste."

In reply Nick turned his head and his mouth met Lincoln's for a kiss. For a moment it seemed like dinner would be forgotten and Lincoln was fine with that, growling stomach be damned, but then Nick yelped and tore himself away to reach for the stove. "Whew, no harm done. But—"

"I'll behave," Lincoln said, grinning, putting his hands up in surrender. "I'll cook next time, make it up to you," he added, and made a mental note to email Carol for some of her vegetarian recipes. Nick would love her veggie lasagna, one of these days when Lincoln had a little bit of prep time.

Nick glanced over, the delight on his face all out of proportion to the remark. "Yeah? You'd do that for me?"

"I'm pretty sure," Lincoln said, striving for a casual tone, mindful of his earlier thoughts, "I'm going to be doing a lot of things for you."

Nick's brow furrowed and Lincoln hurried to fix his clumsy attempt at cool. "Sorry, I meant, I want to make the effort. For you."

"I'd like that." Nick stirred the risotto, seemingly intent on the pan, but he was smiling down at the rice and Lincoln took that for a sign that he'd saved the moment.

He was on his best behavior for the next half hour, putting together a tomato and arugula salad and watching Nick attend to his cooking with careful precision.

Lincoln was more than ready to dig in by the time they sat at the battered kitchen table. He tasted a forkful and blinked. "Oh, wow."

Nick tilted his head. "Wow good or wow bad?"

"Wow, amazing." He went back for a larger bite, savoring the melded flavors. Tangy and sweet all at once, and Nick got the consistency just right. "I always just get soggy rice."

"Takes practice," Nick said, not at all modestly, and sputtered as Lincoln's bare foot slid into his crotch under the table. "Hey!"

"Just getting comfortable." Lincoln grinned and took another bite.

"DT has better manners," Nick grumbled but didn't, Lincoln noticed, try to remove the errant foot. "Don't get too excited," he said dryly. "I still need to return the car today. I thought we might go out, but...."

"Rather stay in with you," Lincoln said, and judging by the firmness under his foot, he wasn't the only one who needed to put the brakes on his excitement.

"You're driving me crazy," Nick said, very quietly, and pressed Lincoln's foot hard against his crotch before gently pushing Lincoln's leg off the chair.

"I'll pay the fine," Lincoln blurted, a little desperately, but Nick was adamant.

"We already proved anticipation is good, right? Just think, when we get back later...." he paused. "Well, first we have to walk DT."

Lincoln stared at him. "I knew it. You're secretly evil. No one could be that perfect."

Nick gave him a sharp look, then shook his head. "I'm not." He got up abruptly, going over to the stove to scrape at the pan. Lincoln watched him, not sure where he'd tripped up or how to rescue the mood.

But after a moment Nick turned again with a smile, one that looked genuine. "I'm glad this turned out well, though."

Lincoln dug in again, filing the conversation away for future consideration. "It really is good. Thank you for cooking, by the way."

"I enjoy it." Nick came back to the table, attending to his temporarily abandoned plate. "I like experimenting. Never got the hang of baking, though."

"It's all chemistry, from what my stepmom says. But I never had the patience for it, either."

Nick perked up. "Um, maybe this is silly...but we could take a class? You know, one of those online courses we could do together whenever we had time?"

"That is a _great_ idea." Lincoln answered instinctively, but the more he thought about it— "Yeah, that'd be a lot of fun."

Nick beamed through the rest of dinner and Lincoln found himself grinning back at Nick's enthusiasm. It wasn't just the idea of the class, but the realization that he wouldn't have wanted to spend that kind of time with any of the guys he'd dated—however casually—over the last few years.

The car drop-off lot wasn't too far away, so Nick suggested taking DT along and walking back. Lincoln appreciated both the overlapping objectives and the way the dog obeyed his master: lying calmly on the towel Nick put down in the back seat, willingly accepting the limits of the leash.

They were halfway back to Nick's place when Nick glanced at him sidelong. "Lincoln, I've been meaning to ask you...are you seeing anyone else?"

Lincoln stopped in his tracks and turned to face Nick. The question had been diffident, unlike Nick's usual manner. "When would I have the time?"

Nick smiled but his eyes were serious. "It kind of drives me nuts if someone I'm involved with is dating other people. I've tried it and it doesn't work for me."

"Is that your way of asking me to go steady?" Lincoln grinned and stepped in close. "You could've just said."

Nick linked his arms around Lincoln's waist. "I hate to sound demanding. And I know you..." he hesitated, probably looking for polite words.

Lincoln could've told him not to bother. "...have an active and varied sex life, true. When I'm not dating someone special." He leaned in and kissed the tip of Nick's nose. "Which you are." He sighed dramatically. "You wouldn't believe how many blowjobs in the office supply closet I've had to turn down over the past few weeks."

"...I can't even tell if you're joking." Nick was smiling lopsidedly, as if he was embarrassed by his own small request.

"About the blowjobs? Mostly. About not seeing anyone else? Totally serious." Lincoln paused and reconsidered. "Actually, I'm totally serious about blowjobs too, but in this case—"

Nick laughed. "I got it. And...thanks."

It seemed to be a moment for another moment. "Nick." Lincoln put on his best serious face and held Nick's gaze. "I mean it. I haven't even been tempted to see anyone else, since we met again."

Nick swallowed hard and opened his mouth to say something, then leaned in to kiss Lincoln instead. Lincoln was perfectly happy to let himself be kissed, especially considering the single-mindedness Nick was putting into the effort. And because it kept him from saying anything more incriminating.

"You know, I'm usually not this much for PDA," Nick finally murmured against Lincoln's mouth.

"Yeah, I'm a bad influence." Lincoln smirked, unrepentant. "I like being groped in public spaces."

Nick sputtered a little, laughing. "Okay, wow. I didn't know I was dating an exhibitionist."

"Dirty talk works too," Lincoln offered.

Nick just shook his head. "I suppose your badge would get you out of any public lewdness charges."

"Rank hath its privileges."

They walked another half block before Nick turned to him again. "Wait. You said, 'when I'm not dating someone special.' Does that mean you think _our_ sex life isn't 'active and varied'?"

Lincoln blinked at him. "What? No, that's not—"

"Because," Nick continued, "I'm absolutely willing to learn." He leaned in close again. "I've been thinking about it and I want to try again with you. I want to feel you in me."

Lincoln came to a dead stop in the middle of the sidewalk.

Nick eyed him curiously, whistling for DT to move away from sniffing at something a little too interesting behind a bush. "Lincoln?"

"Can't...talk," Lincoln managed. "No blood reaching my brain."

Nick started to laugh. "I finally found a way to shut you up, huh. Aside from—" he glanced around quickly, making sure none of his neighbors were in earshot. "Your mouth on me."

Lincoln crouched down carefully, ostensibly to pet the dog, more realistically to keep from jumping Nick right here on the sidewalk. Well, damn, he'd told Nick he liked public dirty talk. "And now I can't walk, either."

"Well, that's too bad," Nick said with real regret in his voice. "Because I was thinking, when we got back to the house, if you didn't have any other plans—"

"A class 10 couldn't keep me away," Lincoln said, and then reminded himself to make a sizeable donation toward one of the division charities. Like all Fringe agents, he was slightly superstitious about evoking events not in evidence. "Nick, it'll be good, I swear."

"I believe you," Nick said, sounding like the banter was finally getting to him. "I think, uh, DT's had enough exercise for a while."

"Our turn," Lincoln murmured.

He was pretty sure they made it back to Nick's place in record time.

* * *

It naturally followed that after that amazing, flawless weekend, both their jobs erupted into a frenzy of activity. Fringe events had lessened but not stopped, and Lincoln's team also had to be on hand at sites chosen for Amber dissolution. And from each of those newly opened sites emerged a group of disoriented people who needed help reclaiming their lives, overwhelming Nick's office.

Lincoln and Nick managed to meet up briefly twice during the following week, once for breakfast on Tuesday morning, the second time for a quick dinner on Thursday night. They never actually got around to eating at the second restaurant, because a trip to the bathroom turned into a heated make-out session that ended with the owner throwing them out.

They ended up buying falafel out of a street cart and eating on the sidewalk, cracking up whenever they caught each other's eyes. Nick sighed mournfully, shaking his head. "See, I knew you'd get me in trouble."

"Just wait," Lincoln told him. "I'm especially bad in movie theaters. All those people around in the dark, you trying to keep quiet while my hand's in your lap...." He grinned to Nick's scandalized look. "I pretty much end up having to see anything I'm interested in twice, if I went the first time with someone else."

"So I have to keep you in private, is that what you're saying?"

Lincoln had to swallow hard around the last bite of his dinner before he could answer. "I'm okay with that."

Nick groaned, rubbing at his face. "This weekend—"

"We're both swamped, I know. But...you could stay over, if Jenna's willing to take DT? That way you'd already be in the city for work and we could spend at least some time together." Lincoln grinned to Nick's raised eyebrow. "Not just for that. I did promise I'd cook for you."

"I'd really like that." Nick reached over to squeeze Lincoln's hand. "I know this won't be easy. But I want to make it work."

"I've had my share of easy," Lincoln said before he could stop himself. "The challenge makes it worth doing."

" _You're_ worth doing," Nick said with a leer, but Lincoln liked the way Nick's fingers curled around his, like he never meant to let go.

* * *

They tried trading off evenings whenever they could: staying at Lincoln's when Nick could presume on Jenna's hospitality, staying at Nick's when Lincoln was reasonably sure he wouldn't be on call first thing in the morning. But there was no way to predict when Fringe events would break out and it still made Lincoln twitch to arrive on scene after the first responders had already entered a hazard area.

It was just too much stress on top of the daily demands of their work, and they reverted back to seeing each other in stolen moments and on the rare quiet days off. Lincoln had to keep reminding himself that this was how other people did it: building a new relationship around everything else going on in their lives, finding ways to fit another person into their established patterns.

Lincoln's everyday routine consisted of being at Fringe Division for as long as he was needed, all day every day; catching meals on the fly, with Liv and Charlie if they were free and on his own if they weren't; getting exercise when he found time, early in the morning or late if he couldn't sleep; and keeping up on science journals and the latest techniques from Fringe Divisions around the world. What little free time he had after all that was occupied by scheduled events like the soccer league.

His days were just _packed._ And Nick had a full schedule too, between his work and ongoing obligations like DT's visits to the children's hospital, and his own social activities. Nick loved seeing movies and having potlucks with his friends and talking online with his sister and her kids. All the potential new demands on Lincoln's time were a little overwhelming.

Nick was worth being overwhelmed for.

Some of it was easy. Since Charlie got married he was spending nights at home, and Liv had taken on the job of introducing the other Lincoln to his new world with unholy enthusiasm. Nick was more than happy to come to soccer matches, and Lincoln fully intended to visit the hospital to watch DT play with the kids as soon as their schedules aligned.

Meeting Nick's friends was more intimidating. Not everyone accepted Fringe Division's necessity, and Lincoln had frankly given up interacting with civilians on a regular basis except on the most casual level.

But Nick's friends were cordial enough on first brief meetings, even if Lincoln caught some "don't hurt our boy" vibes around the edges. It made him wonder about the last relationship Nick had been in, the one Nick hadn't wanted to talk about.

Lincoln found out a week later, after he'd stumbled into Nick's place late one evening after a grueling couple of days. He'd been neck-deep in coordinating logistics for an upcoming joint operation involving most of New York's public safety services, trying to ensure everyone was clear about their roles. Going back to his own apartment would've been easier and faster, but he wanted to see Nick, even if just while he was falling asleep.

Nick had even kept dinner warm for him. Lincoln inhaled the baked ziti with gratitude. "That was exactly what I needed. How'd you get so perfect?"

Nick let out a short laugh, tinged with a bitterness Lincoln had never heard from him before. He'd had a long week, too. "Oh, no I'm not. Just ask Sally."

It was late, but that sounded worth pursuing. "Sally...?"

"Sally Clark." Nick breathed out sharply. "You really want to hear about this now?"

"Yeah, I really do." Lincoln got up, thought about going for Nick's emergency Scotch, and decided against it. "Tell me?"

Nick sighed. "I was seeing her until a couple of months ago."

"You mentioned." Lincoln hesitated. "I'm...not the rebound, right?"

"No! It's been...." Nick blinked. "It's been almost a year. I hadn't even realized. And I dated a little before we met." He sat down on the rocking chair, setting the displaced teddy bear on his lap. "She...she's a travel photographer, you know, loves to explore new places. A new country every week. We met during one of my cases...well, it doesn't matter." His hands tugged nervously at the bear's ears. "It was good. We were good. But she lived out of apartments, always heading off on another adventure. She wanted me to go along with her. I like going on vacation...but it's important to come back home. I like having a place to call my own." He looked up at Lincoln, shrugging. "There were other things, too."

Lincoln thought he could push a little. "Still not hearing the 'less than perfect' part."

Nick frowned. "Lincoln. I can be obsessive, and I definitely get too caught up in my work, and sometimes I live too much in my own head. And I..." he took a deep breath. "I've had some bad depressive episodes over the years. I was lucky, the meds worked pretty well for me."

"Just about everyone I know is on something," Lincoln said lightly, which was an exaggeration but not by much.

"I'm being serious." Nick sounded agitated, and Lincoln belatedly understood just how significant this was. "But it's more than that. Ever since I heard about the other Nick Lane, I can't help wondering—was it just the experiments that made him do what he did, or something else in him? In— in me?"

Lincoln dropped down to kneel on the floor in front of the rocking chair, putting his hands on Nick's knees. "It's not. Trust me on this? Me and the other Lincoln, we've got similar backgrounds and maybe genetics, but he really is a totally different person. Even a...a similarity in brain chemistry, if that's what caused your depression, that doesn't make you anything like that other Nick."

"You sound so sure."

"Trust me," Lincoln said, "I'm a scientist. I got the fancy degrees and everything."

Nick rolled his eyes, his expression half amused and half exasperated. "You've been waiting to use that line, I can tell."

"Little bit." Lincoln pushed gently on Nick's legs and the chair rocked back with the motion. "I didn't mean to joke about it. That's...just what I do. My way of coping, I guess."

"I know." Nick tilted his head, looking curious. "So now you know about my ex. What about you? You said before, it's been a long time since you were serious about anyone."

"Yeah. But it's not like—it wasn't a bad breakup or anything." He glanced up to see Nick's face and knew he wasn't going to get away with the deflection. Turnabout was fair play. "It was when I was at the Academy. Daniel and I were both fresh out of school, all fired up to save the world. It started as a competition between us, turned into a lot more."

Nick's fingers brushed over the back of Lincoln's neck. "Why'd you break up?"

Lincoln sighed. "Too much alike. We weren't willing to give up our careers for each other. He's in a division out west, we don't talk but I've got alerts set to keep track of him. I know he's done the same for me."

"And since then?"

"A lot of passing flings. I'm still friends with most of them. I just didn't want to commit to anything."

Nick's fingers stilled, then resumed their stroking rhythm. "I think given the stress of your job, you've coped remarkably well."

"I've been running on autopilot," Lincoln said, hearing the bleak tone in his voice, not wanting to suppress it like he usually did. "I let the job become my whole life because it was easier than thinking about...anything else." He rested his head against Nick's legs, too tired to guard his tongue. "Nick, I—"

"It's late," Nick said quietly. "We're both wiped, and I know you've got a huge job coming up. We should talk about these things when we're both more awake, okay?" 

Lincoln nodded, thinking about what he'd almost said. But Nick was right: this really wasn't the moment for it. "It's a date."

He should have remembered what they said about best-laid plans.


	4. Build on a trust

Fringe Division had spent a month gearing up for a trial run at opening one of the larger Ambered sites in Brooklyn. It turned out that wasn't nearly enough time. The anomaly still trapped inside lashed out viciously, like a wounded animal, forcing the agents to re-Amber the site with an even larger perimeter than before. But not before three people—Lincoln's colleagues and friends—got killed. Not Liv or Charlie, thank God, but Sammy and Gina and James, dammit, James shouldn't even have _been_ at the site—

It hurt so much, and then even more because Lincoln thought he was done with this kind of pain.

As usual the entire division gathered at one of their local hangouts after the post-action reports were in, trying to find solace with each other. Lincoln clutched at Liv and Charlie for equilibrium and they were there for him like always, at least for the beginning of the evening. But after a while Charlie went home to Mona and Liv moved away to huddle in a corner with the other Lincoln, and that was as it should be except—

Lincoln felt a hand on his shoulder and turned into Nick's embrace before he'd even realized what he was doing. He held on, clinging, until the shoulder of Nick's shirt was soaked through and Lincoln could breathe again without sobbing.

He pulled away just enough to see Nick's face. " H- how did you know—"

"Olivia called me," Nick said softly. "C'mon, I'll take you home."

Nick didn't let go as he steered Lincoln onto the subway and all the way up to the brownstone. He washed Lincoln's face and got him out of his clothes and curled up with him in bed, holding on until exhaustion and grief finally dragged Lincoln down into sleep.

He stayed long enough in the morning to make sure Lincoln was all right, then bolted off to work. Lincoln tried to reach him during the day, but got Nick's voice mail each time. The after-action reports and compulsory counseling sessions took up most of Lincoln's day anyway, and by the time he got a call through, Nick sounded exhausted and needed to get home to retrieve DT from Jenna.

They finally caught some free time a few days later and Nick met him at the High Line. In its earlier life the overhead trestle had been an elevated train track; after sitting unused for years, the city turned the railway into a public park filled with greenery. The two of them walked in silence awhile until they found a quiet bench. Lincoln had picked up a couple of wrapped sandwiches and they ate, looking out over the city.

"This is really nice," Nick finally said.

It was just so... _bland_ and _polite_ that Lincoln couldn't do anything for a moment but blink at him. Maybe Nick thought Lincoln didn't appreciate everything he'd done. "I wanted to thank you for taking care of me. I really needed that."

Nick gave him a lopsided smile, but his eyes were sad. "I was glad to help."

"Nick, what's wrong?"

Nick shook his head, tossing the wadded-up remains of his dinner into a nearby trash bin. "I wish you'd called me."

"I didn't want—" Lincoln stopped, not even sure what he meant to say. "I didn't want to...impose."

Nick looked genuinely hurt. "You weren't. I wanted to be there for you."

Lincoln waved his hands helplessly. "I'm out of the habit, you know? Of leaning on anybody outside of Liv and Charlie. But I should have called you. I should've—"

"I love you," Nick said softly.

Lincoln stopped, swallowing hard. "I—

Nick put two fingers over Lincoln's mouth, stopping his reply. "I wanted to tell you because I was terrified about what happened the other day, and I needed you to know. I had to say it because I was angry that you hadn't called, and then mad at myself that maybe I hadn't given you a reason to." He hesitated, then pulled his hand away. "This wasn't the way I wanted to tell you, either."

"Nick," Lincoln breathed, and brought Nick's hand back to his mouth to kiss his fingers. This was all his fault, for not obeying his own impulses. "I love you. I've been in love with you from the moment you volunteered to cross into the other universe. I'm so sorry I didn't just say it."

They stared at each other for a long moment until Nick finally shook his head. "I want a do-over."

"A...?" Lincoln ventured cautiously.

"Yeah. So when we talk about the first time we said 'I love you,' it's not this story." Nick looked stubbornly determined, and a little like he didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Lincoln knew which he'd rather. "You're absolutely right. Let me take you out? We'll make a night of it, somewhere fancy. Eleven Madison, Le Bernadin, you choose."

The expression on Nick's face started to lighten. "That's right. You'll wine and dine me, making up for being so— so—"

"Thoughtless," Lincoln finished. "Yeah. It'll be a perfect evening. Afterward I'll take you to—"

"It's a surprise," Nick interrupted.

Lincoln started to smile, already laying plans. Dinner out, and a walk through the park, and a night at a swanky hotel. "I'll take care of everything."

"And we'll never speak of this again." Nick bit his lip and said softly, "I meant it, though."

Lincoln pulled him close. "Me too. And I really am sorry."

"Okay," Nick said, and they sat there holding each other past closing time until a park patrol officer came by to gently shoo them off the High Line.

The evening did turn out perfect, even if Nick was horrified at the thought of what Lincoln must've spent to make it all happen. (His guesstimate was short by a considerable margin.) Lincoln didn't care; Nick was happy, and they were in love. Everyone who saw them that night knew it.

* * *

"Double date," Nick said decisively, his tone not inviting argument.

Lincoln glared at him and argued anyway. By now he wasn't really surprised by Nick's persistence, given his tenaciousness in pursuing his goals at work or at play. But his resolve was disconcerting when applied to this subject. "Like that wouldn't be the most awkward—"

"You've been making excuses not to spend time with the other Lincoln. It's not fair to Olivia."

"It'd be like a comedy of errors," Lincoln muttered. "One of you says 'Lincoln' and we both look up. We'd need code names."

Nick gave him that patient look that meant Lincoln was being ridiculous. Well, maybe he was, but that was his prerogative. "As though you're the only two people in the whole world to share a name. We're all smart enough to figure out who we mean."

Part of Lincoln, a very small annoying part, was kind of glad Nick wasn't letting him get away with his irrational reaction to his double. The rest of him still wanted to sulk. "It's just weird, Nick. He's so—"

"He's not you," Nick said, his voice calm like he was soothing one of his clients, putting his hand on Lincoln's shoulder. "Everybody knows that. So suck it up and just treat him like a— a twin brother."

"Not my brother," Lincoln said mulishly. "Don't wanna brother. I've got a textbook case of only-child syndrome. Selfish and arrogant, haven't you heard?"

"No such thing," Nick said cheerfully, without pity. "Though you are being a brat."

Lincoln changed tactics, turning to slide closer into Nick's space. "You like me like that."

"Mostly." Nick grinned at him to take the sting out of it. "C'mon, seriously. It'll be fine. We'll go out and have a good time and I'll get to know your friends. I'd really like that, Lincoln."

"That's low," Lincoln muttered into Nick's neck. "Dirty pool."

"What, asking for something I want?"

"Exactly." Lincoln pulled back enough for Nick to see his reluctant smile. "Like I'm ever going to say no to you."

Nick's jaw worked for a second before he sputtered. "That's— that's a very useful ability, if true."

"Try me," Lincoln said, dropping his voice into a seductive invitation. Even if he hadn't won the argument he'd definitely shelved it for the moment, judging by the way Nick swallowed hard and his fingers twitched convulsively on Lincoln's shoulder.

Lincoln consoled himself with the fact that this, at least, was a victory they both would enjoy.

* * *

"I hate this."

Lincoln froze, his heart hammering, but Nick's face was still pressed into his neck and body language told Lincoln that he wasn't the subject of Nick's ire. "What?"

"Only seeing you on random days," Nick muttered. He pulled back from their greeting hug just enough to catch Lincoln's eye. "I want to be with you all the time. I want to wake up to your face every morning, not just when we happen to be off at the same time."

They'd been heading toward this at a rapid clip over the past several months and Lincoln was relieved to find that he wasn't anxious about the prospect at all. "I am a hundred percent in favor of that idea. My apartment is..." he started, and immediately revised his entire impromptu argument. He'd been about to say "big enough for both of us" but they weren't two, they were three. "...a terrible place for a dog."

Nick relaxed, the lines of his body giving up his concealed apprehension. He laughed, a little weakly. "I was afraid you'd try to argue for me moving into the city."

"I wanted to," Lincoln admitted. "There's the park and a dog run nearby. There's probably a full-time doggie daycare somewhere, too. But I know that's not really adequate," he added hastily, in case Nick thought he was arguing the case.

"I'd just hate sending DT away every day, like he didn't have a home." Nick bit at his lip. "But what about your work? I know you need to be nearby because you're always on call."

"And I like living in the middle of the city," Lincoln said, because anything else would be a lie. "I was never a suburban kid."

Nick nodded, looking unhappy. "Plus you did all that work on your apartment, I know how much that must have cost you."

"On the other hand," Lincoln said slowly, trying to wrap his head around the idea, "your place really isn't all that far away. Fringe Division won't fall apart if it takes me a few extra minutes to get there."

Nick raised an eyebrow at him. "Didn't you once tell me they wouldn't survive without you?"

Old habits were the hardest to break, but Nick would be worth the effort. Lincoln nodded, his mind made up. "Well, yeah, but you know what? They can wait. Because you're right, I'd rather wake up with you than be the first on the scene every time."

"Wow." Nick laughed, the sound full of relief. "I didn't think— that was easier than I thought it'd be."

Lincoln raised his own eyebrow. "You haven't asked me anything yet."

Nick laughed again, then caught Lincoln's hands and brought them to his mouth for a kiss. "Will you move in with me, Lincoln?"

"You know, your bathroom is _really small,_ " Lincoln said, trying for a pout, but he couldn't hold the expression. "Barely enough room for both of us, let alone my necessary accouterments."

"I'd clear out the whole cabinet just for your hair stuff," Nick offered with a solemn nod. "But you haven't answered me yet."

Lincoln answered him with a kiss first. "Yes, Nick, I'd love to move in with you. You realize, I haven't lived with anyone for a long time, I probably have all kinds of terrible bachelor habits."

"I'm used to dealing with unruly creatures," Nick said, smiling. "But seriously, I don't want you to give up everything you love. We can stay in the city later after work, and—"

"Nick." Lincoln squeezed Nick's hands. "Anything I might be giving up is—it doesn't compare. I like my apartment. I love you."

"I love you. So much." Nick kissed him and then pulled back, his excitement nearly palpable. "We're doing this, seriously? Because I was already thinking about ways to fix up the house, it's overdue for some renovation, and I want you to be happy here."

"Seriously really," Lincoln said, laughing. "But my interior decorator gene fell out in the wash. You know I picked up most of my furniture on a whim."

"Yeah, but now we can choose something together. Like a couch that's actually comfortable to make out on." Nick grinned. "See, I have my priorities straight." He paused for a second. "This, uh, isn't all too soon?"

Lincoln rolled his eyes. "I don't know what that means. Nick, I spent the last few years thinking I wasn't going to live to see my next birthday. You might have noticed my finely honed need for instant gratification."

Nick tilted his head thoughtfully. "I know for a fact you're perfectly capable of self-control when you want to be."

"Nah, that's the other guy with my face." Lincoln took a step and then another, Nick moving with him, until Lincoln was in the right position to sweep Nick's legs out from under him. Nick landed on the couch with a whoosh of breath and Lincoln dove on top of him. He followed up by immediately shoving his hands under Nick's shirt. "Fuck self-control. Better yet, fuck me."

Nick laughed and rolled them over. He misjudged the distance—they really _did_ need a better couch—and they fell onto the rug-covered floor. Lincoln ended up underneath and he was perfectly happy to be there, bruises be damned. Nick grinned down at him. "I guess sealing it with a kiss is old fashioned."

"Never." Lincoln pulled Nick's face down to prove it. Minutes later, breathless, he added, "But I like to think of a kiss as a good place to start."

Nick propped himself up on one elbow. "This is just the start, isn't it."

It wasn't a question and Lincoln didn't really need to answer. Not in words, anyway.


	5. So we can be one

(several months later)

The soccer tournament had been hard fought. Lincoln was sweaty and stinking to high heaven by the time his team drove toward the goalposts, unstoppable with Liv leading the charge. The ref called the final score and Lincoln was swarmed with hugs from his team and handshakes from the opposition.

There was a ripple of murmurs from the crowd, people looking behind him and smiling. Lincoln turned around to see Nick behind him, down on one knee—

"Now, really?" he said, already grinning.

"Be serious, I'm only doing this once." Nick reached up to take Lincoln's hands. "Lincoln Tyrone Lee, will you marry me?"

Lincoln dropped to his knees, only partly because he was too overwhelmed to stand. "Yes! Yes, Nick."

They kissed right there in the dirt, long enough for people to start cheering and cat-calling, though Lincoln barely heard them. He finally pulled back, smiling. "Hey, where's my ring?"

Nick reached into his pocket and pulled out a toy plastic Batman ring. He fitted it onto Lincoln's finger, his face completely serious. "You don't wear jewelry, so I didn't want to guess at what you'd want. But I knew you'd like this one as a placeholder."

"It's perfect," Lincoln said, admiring the symbol on his finger.

"Of course it is, he's still twelve," a voice came from behind him. Lincoln craned his neck around to see Nick's sister Kendra and her husband Steven and their two kids, and his own father and stepmom. Kendra had on a wry smile, the same one Lincoln remembered from when they were kids. "Hope you know what you're getting into, Nick."

Nick slid a hand over Lincoln's mouth before the obvious reply could tumble out. "You had your shot, Kendra. He's my problem now."

Lincoln licked at Nick's hand and laughed as Nick dropped it away. "I do my best. Where were you guys hiding? And did you—" he turned back to Nick. "You planned all this."

"Yep," Nick admitted, getting to his feet and pulling Lincoln up with him, reclaiming his hand. "I even asked your dad first."

Lincoln's father nodded his agreement and stepped forward to put one hand on Lincoln's shoulder. "I'm happy for you, son."

Lincoln looked at him, a little dubious, but didn't see any hesitation on his father's face. "Thanks, dad."

He hugged his father, winking over his shoulder at his stepmom. Carol had his back from the moment she and his father first started dating. She'd made no pretense of trying to replace his mother, who'd died when he was very young. Lincoln had felt guilty for a long time about the fact that he'd liked her right away, thinking that he was betraying his mom's memory by accepting Carol into the family without a fight. Eventually he came around to the obvious realization that his mom would have wanted him and his dad to be happy, no matter what.

Carol stepped in to kiss his cheek, and then Nick's. "Nick told us about the match and his plan a while back," she said. "We all agreed that we couldn't miss either event."

Lincoln glanced at Nick. "What if we'd lost the game?"

"Wasn't gonna happen. Olivia promised," Nick said serenely. Everyone moved in and Lincoln and Nick found themselves hugged and kissed and generally welcomed into the family until they were all hugged out, or starting to itch with dried sweat, or both.

Lincoln looked back over at Nick. His _fiancé,_ God, they needed some private time soon. "I'm guessing there's a plan?"

Nick nodded. "Everyone's going to go to their hotels or play tourist for a bit while we go home and change. I made a reservation for dinner later for all of us, if you're up to it? Just family. We can do something with our friends later this week, if you want."

"I especially like the 'home' part," Lincoln murmured. "Yeah, sounds good."

Before everyone dispersed Lincoln stole another moment to catch up with Charlie and Liv, who'd been patiently waiting for his attention. He showed off his Bat-symbol ring with pride. "I'm getting married, you guys."

Charlie snorted his amusement. "'Course you are. We've known that since you met him. It's just shocking it took this long."

"Ignore him," Liv said, elbowing Charlie in the ribs and moving in for a hug. "So happy for you, Lincoln."

Mona and the other Lincoln were standing slightly off to the side, but Lincoln was feeling too generous today to leave anyone out of the general celebration. He waved them over, smiling. "You guys need to help me put on the biggest engagement party ever."

"I love party planning!" Mona beamed, her arms looped around Charlie's waist. "This'll be fun."

"Congratulations," Lincoln's doppelganger said with his usual reserve, and Lincoln made a snap decision and pulled Lee away from the others by the arm.

"Okay, look— I can't pretend it doesn't still weird me out when I look at you."

"Same," Lee said dryly.

" _But,_ " Lincoln continued, undeterred, "in the general spirit of the day, I thought, well, I should try to be nicer to you from now on."

Lee looked like he was stifling a laugh. "You...haven't been _un_ nice. And you did introduce me to your parents."

"Yeah, but I had to do that before we turned into a terrible, horrible, no-good accidental farce. But what I mean is, uh." He paused, looking at his mirror image, now even more alike since Lee got his vision corrected and lost the nerd glasses. "I'm glad you decided to stay in this world."

"So am I," Lee said quietly, and Lincoln didn't need to glance back over his shoulder to see where Lee's eyes had gone.

"You're going to ask her to marry you any day now, right?"

Lee's gaze came back to him, startled and amused. "When it's time, and no, I am not rushing things so we can have a double wedding. Speaking of farces I would like to avoid."

"Spoilsport," Lincoln muttered, but that possibility hadn't even occurred to him and God, no thank you. He wanted Liv to be happy, but there was no way in hell he would've shared his own damn wedding day. Lincoln threw his arm around Lee's shoulders and they walked back to the others.

Later, back at home—after he'd properly molested Nick in the shower in a replay of their first time together—Lincoln glanced over at his fiancé. "Nick, you know the only reason I didn't ask you first—"

"Because you don't think about things like that," Nick finished for him. "I know. So I seized the chance to have a big dramatic moment."

"It was perfect." Lincoln grinned at him, knowing how goofy his expression was and not caring. "I'm gonna _marry_ you. You're gonna be my _husband._ "

"And vice versa." Nick's grin was just as ridiculous and seeing it made Lincoln even happier. "Should we set a date?"

Lincoln hummed thoughtfully. "I think we should plan backward from when we can both take off enough time for a real honeymoon."

Nick laughed, as much at him as anything. "I do love your priorities."

"Any thoughts on where we should go?"

"A few. But I know where we should have the ceremony. Where we said 'I love you' for the first time."

"The official first time, or the real first time?" Lincoln asked, a little cautiously.

Nick smiled. "The real first time. No one needs to know why but us."

"Wedding on the High Line. Perfect. I love it." Looking out over the city, all dressed in their best—it really would be perfect.

Lincoln had at least one definite honeymoon idea, if Nick was into it. He'd made a reasonable return on the sale of the brownstone and put a good chunk of it into house renovations, but there was still a considerable total left over. Enough for one of those package vacations to the moon that were advertised everywhere. A little cheesy and cliché, maybe, but Lincoln had never gone and he'd heard that the view from the Peary crater was spectacular. He wanted to see it with Nick.

He wanted everything with Nick, for as long as the universe gave them.

* * *

(three years later)

Lincoln had been standing in the kitchen, staring blindly into the fridge and wondering what to do about dinner. He heard the front door open and called out. "In here."

Nick came into the kitchen and Lincoln glanced over to see him looking pale and apprehensive. He let the fridge door slam shut and hurried over. "Nick? What's wrong?"

"Lincoln, there's something— we never really made a decision about this—"

"Nick?" Lincoln stared at him, alarmed. Nick wasn't reticent about broaching any subject with him.

Nick caught his concern. "No, it's nothing bad. It's— you remember, a while back, we talked about if we wanted kids? I said I did, but you weren't sure."

"I remember," Lincoln said slowly. "Is— did you want to, um, reopen the discussion?"

"Yeah. But it's— this is probably the worst way." Nick chewed on his lip. "Are you— I mean, is that something you might still—"

"Nick," Lincoln said with what he thought was commendable patience, "spit it out."

Nick started talking slowly, then with more intensity. Recovery teams had been reclaiming the Amber site at Madison Square Garden, one painful inch at a time. Lincoln kept up with the reports as much as he could, but by now the recovery teams were under a separate division. He hadn't heard that they they'd found an infant close to the still-entombed anomaly. Her parents hadn't survived. Everyone considered it a miracle that she had.

"She doesn't have any family. We have contacts with a couple of foster homes that take in orphans, but...I couldn't stop thinking about bringing her home." Nick shrugged, looking at Lincoln with both trepidation and poorly concealed yearning.

Part of him, the old selfish juvenile part, wanted to bolt. Lincoln told it to fuck off and tried to keep his voice even. "I'm not gonna lie, that's a lot to process."

"I know. It's crazy, right?" Nick shook his head, like he was preparing to dismiss the entire discussion.

"I didn't say that." Lincoln took a deep breath. "I— we can talk about it? When I said I wasn't sure before, it was mostly because the vortexes were still flaring, no one was sure if the stabilization would hold. Now...." he broke off, seeing the guarded hope on Nick's face. He knew it, right then; they still had a lot of discussion ahead, but the resolution wasn't really in doubt. "Oh, sweetheart. You've already fallen in love with this kid, haven't you."

Nick groaned, falling heavily into a kitchen chair. "All these years, I've been so careful about not getting caught up in our clients' stories. But this little girl..."

Lincoln took his hand, their fingers twining together, their tattooed wedding rings mirrored against each other. In the end they'd decided on tattoos rather than rings in deference to Lincoln's job and the chance of jewelry being lost on a case. "I have reason to be thankful that you fall in love so fast." Nick smiled ruefully, glancing up into Lincoln's face. Lincoln smiled back, trying to look reassuring. "Just— I have time to get my head around the idea? A little bit?"

"Yeah. She'll be in the ICU for a couple of weeks yet. Mostly they're just monitoring, she's doing really well."

Lincoln knew the stats on infants and decompiled Amber; this baby really was a miracle. "What's her name?" he asked softly, knowing that every moment spent in discussion made the possibility more real, made _her_ more real.

"Amanda."

"Pretty." He breathed out a long sigh. "We should— I don't know. How does anyone start with this stuff?"

"I think it just happens," Nick said softly. "But I know this is a lot to drop on you at once."

It was...but maybe not as much of a surprise as Nick thought. "Let me ask one thing," Lincoln started, but Nick shook his head.

"If there's only one thing, I know we're really in trouble." He smiled at Lincoln fondly. "I hope you have a lot more questions than that."

"I will. But for right now...is this because Liv and her husband are talking about starting a family?"

Nick rolled his eyes. "'Her husband' has a name." It'd become a longstanding habit, the way Lincoln refused to call his double by his own name. Then he paused, looking like he was thinking over his answer carefully. "...maybe a little? I'd meant to bring it up with you again, anyway."

"Well, now we have a reason to really consider it." Lincoln said "we" deliberately, hoping to see Nick's face light up.

But Nick just nodded, his expression shading with apprehension. "I need to keep reminding myself that nothing's a given. I mean, just because my office is assigned to her case doesn't mean...."

"That you'd automatically get to keep her?" Lincoln filled in softly, and Nick nodded. "Cross that bridge if and when we get to it, okay?"

"Yeah." Nick leaned toward him, resting his head against Lincoln's chest. "Thank you for not freaking out."

Lincoln ran his hand through Nick's hair. "That's what we promised. 'For better or worse.' This isn't worse by a long shot, just different." He leaned down and kissed the top of Nick's head. "But right now I declare a pause to this conversation, because I'm starving."

"Dinner. Right." Nick looked blindly around the kitchen. "Uh, I don't remember what we have on hand—"

"Not much. I checked. I put in the grocery order but it hasn't arrived yet. Therefore," Lincoln declared, "I proclaim take-out night."

...mostly because Nick didn't look up to going out and besides, they'd been pretty good about sharing cooking duties the last few months. Tonight felt like the right time for the indulgence.

Nick agreed without argument. "Lasagna from the Italian place?"

"And garlic knots. You go change and get comfortable, I'll call it in." Nick rolled his eyes at the addition but didn't protest, and Lincoln smirked. They both deserved the carb overload.

Nick didn't reopen the conversation, giving Lincoln space to think. But that night, lying in bed, he turned over and said softly, "Come with me to see her tomorrow?"

Lincoln really would have been a fool not to have been expecting that. "Yeah."

* * *

First thing the next morning Lincoln walked into Liv's office (previously Dahlander's, previously Broyles') with Charlie in tow and said, "I need some advice."

His boss—and she was welcome to the job, she really was—raised an eyebrow at him but didn't hesitate to hit the intercom. "Marie, hold my calls."

Rank did have privileges: Olivia could hole up in here with Lincoln and Charlie for hours and no one would blink, assuming she was briefing the other two senior agents on some new technique or protocol.

Lincoln looked at them, his two best friends, and opened fire without preface. "Nick wants to adopt a baby."

Charlie turned to Liv without a second's pause. "Pay up."

"Hold on, I want details." Liv tilted her head, studying Lincoln closely. " _Nick_ wants? How about you?"

Lincoln was still one step back. "Wait, you had a _bet_ on— on what, whether we would have kids?"

"Charlie was sure you'd never go for it," Liv said casually enough, but her eyes were intent. "So answer the question."

"I— I'm still wrapping my head around it?" Lincoln collapsed into a chair. "Honestly. This just came up last night."

Charlie had stopped smirking and looked concerned. "Hey, uh, if you changed your mind, that's ten bucks I'm happy to lose."

Lincoln gave Charlie his best sardonic look. "That's all the topic was worth to you?"

Charlie flapped his hand, appropriately ignoring the insinuation. "C'mon, talk to us."

He did, telling them what Nick had said about Amanda, telling them about the look on Nick's face when he talked about her."—and it's ridiculous, we both know it's ridiculous. Right?"

Liv and Charlie glanced at each other. "Well—" Charlie started, but Liv interrupted.

"It's only ridiculous if you don't want this. If you do—and you're the only one who can answer that—then you should go for it. Stranger things, right?" She grinned, a little self-deprecatingly. "I married your doppelganger from another world, so I don't really have room to talk about ridiculous."

Charlie snorted at that and turned to Lincoln. "I was about to say, before I was so rudely interrupted. Linc, maybe the timing's not what you thought, if you ever thought about it at all. But that doesn't mean things can't work out, or that you shouldn't— that you shouldn't try."

Lincoln licked his lips nervously and nodded. Charlie and Mona had chosen not to have kids, although Lincoln knew there was some regret involved in that decision. He didn't know all the details, though (of course) he'd talked it over with Liv and they'd agreed it probably had something to do with the arachnids. Besides, Charlie's siblings had about a thousand kids between them if he and Mona ever got the urge to play parents for a day.

But this wouldn't be for a day, and while Lincoln wasn't necessarily alarmed by that idea, he had no idea how to come to grips with it, either. Maybe nobody really did until it happened. "I'm going with Nick to see her later today."

Charlie started smirking again. "Well, that's a done deal, then."

Lincoln couldn't argue.

* * *

Nick had access to the ICU as one of the people assigned to the child's case. Lincoln followed as Nick led the way through the hospital corridors.

They stopped at a tiny incubation chamber. The child inside was obviously of partially Asian descent, but Lincoln had to admit that aside from that, all babies kind of looked alike to him. "What's her full name, did you find—"

"They found her identification nearby." On her parents' bodies, Nick didn't need to say. "That's something I wanted you to see for yourself. Look at her chart."

Lincoln moved to look at the datapad hanging at the end of the tiny pod. "Amanda...Lee," he read in disbelief. "Really?"

"Yeah." Nick slid his arms around Lincoln's waist. "I keep thinking, it's like fate. We talked about the Garden site on our first date."

Lincoln thought back to that day, four years ago. "Huh, you're right."

He leaned over again to peer through the transparent chamber. Amanda was sleeping, just like any other baby and completely unaware of how much of a miracle she was. Lincoln glanced back to see Nick staring at the baby, rapt.

He'd already known he was unable to deny Nick anything. Even this, apparently. And the more Lincoln thought about it—about her, about _them_ as a family—the more he liked the idea. They could turn the back room into a bedroom, it just had all his and Nick's old junk in there anyway—

"Let's do it," he said, squeezing Nick's hand. "Whatever we need to do."

Nick turned him so they were face to face. "Seriously, you're not just agreeing because I want this?"

Lincoln smiled. "Seriously, that's part of it, but I have been thinking about it a lot. And I didn't know I wanted this, but I do now." He glanced back at the chamber. "How do we start?"

"Register at the agency, fill out a zillion documents, see a counselor. I'll remove myself from Amanda's case, of course." Nick ran a hand over his face. "I've gone through this a hundred times on the other side and I know we're doing it all backward."

Lincoln just hugged him tight. "I'm all in, okay? We'll do this together, backward or otherwise."

* * *

The counselor had, unsurprisingly, given Lincoln and Nick the hairy eyeball when they showed up at her office with the usual order of things completely reversed. "This isn't like adopting a dog on a whim, you know," she started, which was exactly the right way to get Nick riled up.

Eventually they both settled down into the real evaluation, most of which amused Lincoln because Ms. Taylor seemed to think he and Nick were living some kind of fabulously outrageous lifestyle. She kept telling them that their days of loud parties and late nights—except those that involved infant feedings and colic—were over. Lincoln didn't have the heart to tell her that most of their late nights were due to mainlining old _Dr. Who_ episodes.

Legal and economic factors weren't an issue. A few years ago Lincoln's job might have been—adoption agencies had been loath to place a child with Fringe agents, considering the high mortality rate involved with the profession—but that wasn't the case any longer. He and Nick were healthy, committed, had stable jobs, and a home that they could child-proof. Lincoln thought they'd won over Ms. Taylor by the end of the session, although Nick had warned him that the process could be filled with pitfalls. This was only the first step.

* * *

Lincoln could hear the misery in Nick's voice the moment he answered the chime on his ear cuff. "What's wrong?"

"Amanda... she..."

For an agonizing second Lincoln was terrified that Nick was going to say that the baby had manifested some previously undetected complication, that she'd died. Nick's voice came back, shaking. "She was adopted by another couple. They'd been waiting a long time, they—" his voice dropped to a whisper. "They're good people."

Lincoln waved frantically to motion Liv over while trying to keep his voice steady. "I'm— God, Nick, I'm so sorry. Are you at your office? I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Yeah. I'm—" Nick let out a half-laugh, half-sob. "I don't think I can move."

"I love you," Lincoln said fiercely. "Just stay there, I'll be right over."

"'kay," Nick said, his voice desolate, and clicked off.

Liv stood by, concern in her eyes. "Lincoln?"

He grimaced, fighting to keep a hold on his own emotions. "Someone else adopted Amanda. Nick sounds—"

"Oh, damn. Go, go, I'll cover." She hurried to keep up with him as he half-ran toward the door. "Lincoln, whatever you guys need—"

"I know. Thanks," he threw back, and bolted toward the subway.

At Nick's office the receptionist threw him a sympathetic look, then waved him back toward Nick's desk. Nick's co-workers saw him coming and drew back respectfully, giving them space.

Lincoln crouched down in front of Nick's chair, resting his hands on Nick's thighs. "Nick? Talk to me."

"We hadn't even finished the adoption preliminaries," Nick said dully. "It was pretty stupid to assume..." he trailed off.

"Not stupid at all. Just hopeful." Lincoln got up and hooked his arm under Nick's. "C'mon, I'm taking you home."

He kept a careful eye on Nick as they took the train up to the house. Nick hadn't had a serious depressive episode since they'd met, just some minor lows set off by everyday disappointments. This was exactly the kind of thing that could send him into a spiral.

Nick caught him at it and grimaced. "Don't. I'll be okay. I just—"

"I know," Lincoln said, and got him inside. 

The rest of the afternoon was quiet. Lincoln was having a hard time sorting out his emotions—he'd gotten attached too, not just to the idea of adopting a child but to the picture of Amanda they'd tacked to the fridge. But he knew Nick was having a much harder time with the disappointment.

Nick didn't argue when Lincoln preemptively called them both out for work the next day. Nick didn't seem to want to talk about the situation and that was okay, at least for now. Lincoln tried to make the rest of the day as normal as possible, cooking dinner, taking DT (older and slower now) out for a walk.

It was late when Nick finally turned to him. "I—" he started, but that was all.

Lincoln hated to see Nick cry but he was grateful for the tears, bittersweet on his lips.

* * *

Nick didn't raise the issue again, but Lincoln found himself thinking about it at intervals over the next several weeks. Ideas that big couldn't just be shoved back down once released.

He let the notion tumble around in his head until he was sure. Lincoln waited until after dinner, when Nick was frowning at a client file on his datapad. Nick tried not to let work follow him home, but sometimes it was inevitable.

Lincoln didn't think Nick would mind the interruption. He cleared his throat slightly for Nick's attention and said, "I think we should try again."

Nick's brow furrowed minutely, and then he blinked. "You mean." He put his pad down very carefully. "Lincoln?"

"Yeah. Let's call the agency." He dropped down on the couch and took Nick's hand. "I think we're ready now. I know I am. If you still—"

" _Yes,_ " Nick said fiercely, leaning in to kiss him. Then he pulled back just enough to look into Lincoln's eyes. "Lincoln, I don't want you to think I need a, a child to be happy, because that's not true at all."

"I know that. Dork." Lincoln squeezed Nick's hand, smiling. "This just feels right."

Nick beamed at him. "That's the best reason."

There'd be a lot more discussion ahead, but right now he wanted Nick to know he really had been considering the issues. "You know, if we're starting from the beginning...there are other options. We could find a surrogate, too."

Nick's head came up fast, his eyes startled. "I didn't— I never even thought about that."

"Me either, before now. But if we're seriously going to expand our family—" Lincoln didn't say "start a family," because they already were— "then maybe it's worth considering?"

"You surprise me," Nick said softly. "Happily, every day." He took a deep breath and nodded. "We'll start again. Go through all the steps in actual order and talk about the options. I'd really like that." And then he tilted his head, a smile starting to curl the corner of his mouth. "You know what I'd really like right now, though? I suddenly have the urge to blow a really hot guy while my husband watches."

Lincoln grinned. He loved when Nick was a goofball. He just loved Nick, period. "I got the solution to both your urges right here."

* * *

It took a lot longer than Lincoln had imagined and more patience than he ever thought he had, but a year and a half later, he and Nick finally became parents. They made all the same promises new parents did, and they both knew they'd make more than their share of mistakes. That was part of the package.

Lincoln heard a soft noise from the baby monitor and he got up before Nick could open his eyes. They'd both been assured they'd come hate the lack of sleep, the constant demands on their time, but Lincoln hadn't yet. He was still too enthralled by the presence of the tiny stranger in their home.

False alarm. Looking down at his child's face, Lincoln wanted to make all kind of vows but the only thing he was positive about, the only thing he understood with any surety, was how damn lucky he was. How lucky they all were, to have found each other.

Well, that and his determination that this kid would never date Trevor Dunham-Lee. If that meant Lincoln had to claim his double as a twin to avoid some kind of freaky alternate-universe incest, that was the way it had to be.

He wasn't fooling anyone, not even himself. Anything this kid wanted, Lincoln wasn't gonna be capable of saying no.

Nick stirred as he came back into the bedroom. "Hey. Everything's fine, go back to sleep," Lincoln said softly.

Nick's voice was sleepily reflective. "I was just thinking. You remember when we met? You said, 'We'll figure it out.'"

Lincoln crawled into bed and smiled as Nick curled against him. "We did, didn't we."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title and subtitles from Howard Jones again. Ah, the classics.
> 
> Colonel Dahlander originally from Elfin's "[Things Shaped in Passing](http://archiveofourown.org/works/396387)" and still making the rounds. ;)
> 
> Nick's family: A mash-up of 1x17 "Bad Dreams" (Broyles mentions that Blue!Nick's parents died in a car accident several years ago, mirrored over here); 2x17 (James Heath drops in on Nick's aunt, and that's the house Nick's living in); and 4x20 "Worlds Apart" (his sister Kendra, with obvious modifications for this side).
> 
> *eyes Sam* You put this urge for curtain-fic in my head, I just know it. The section where the Amber opening goes badly is also Sam's fault.
> 
> [Phenylethylamine ](http://chemistry.about.com/od/valentinesdaychemistry/a/Love-Chemicals.htm), because Lincoln's a nerd.
> 
> [The Blossom Diner](http://www.blossomnyc.com/blossomdinner.php) in Chelsea. Haven't been to a vegan diner but it looks good, no?
> 
> I had a strawberry and blue cheese risotto a while back and it was magnificent.
> 
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peary_(crater)
> 
> There is, of course, a potential parallel fic to this one that traces the course of Liv and Blue!Lincoln's relationship. Please feel free to jump in and write it, since I'm unlikely to.


	6. an outtake

"Do you miss dating women?"

Nick gave him a profoundly affronted look. "I don't miss dating anyone else when I'm with you. I hope you don't either."

Lincoln groaned and ran a hand over his face. "Okay, that was dumb. I meant—"

"I don't wish you were a woman, either," Nick said, relentless.

"Point taken. I guess I was just curious."

Nick tilted his head, his expression thawing. "You said you stopped dating girls in high school, right?"

"Yeah...." Lincoln paused and revised his previous statement. "Well, uh. Officially dating. There might've been some incidental occurrences along the way. "

Nick leaned back like he was expecting story time. "Like what? 'I tripped and fell into her vagina' kind of occurrences?"

"Kind of," Lincoln admitted, laughing. "You know, like there was a guy I wanted to see naked, and he wanted to bring his girlfriend along. That kind of thing. Interesting, but mostly as a practical exercise."

"'Practical exercise,'" Nick repeated, shaking his head. "Poor Lincoln, so in demand as a sex toy."

"I never complained." Lincoln swung his leg over to straddle Nick's lap. "You don't either."

"You're not a toy," Nick said, and kissed him.


End file.
